


The Fault of Walls

by dustmouth, maraudersaffair



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crushes, Depression, First Love, First Time, Grimmauld Place, M/M, Marauders' Era, Oral Sex, POV Remus Lupin, Post-First War with Voldemort, Post-Marauders' Era, Rough Sex, Second War with Voldemort, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-18 04:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 52,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15477924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustmouth/pseuds/dustmouth, https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersaffair/pseuds/maraudersaffair
Summary: Remus Lupin understood secrets. He understood survival. What he didn't understand was how he could be anyone's first choice.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> From the author: I absolutely loved writing this! Thank you so much to Dustmouth for being a terrific BB partner and cheerleader. It was so delightful to work with you! I will miss your hilarious emails, and I wish you all the best in your artistic endeavors. 
> 
> A big thanks to my betas: NenoNewbie and Lena! To Lena, thank you so much for reading all my fanfics. I can't tell you how much I love hearing you gush about my stories. Even though we now live thousands of miles away from each other, I still feel connected to you because we share this. Also, I'm glad this fic provided you some closure to Sirius and Remus' deaths. I think it provided me closure, too. 
> 
> To readers: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also, Dustmouth's art is fucking gorgeous!
> 
> From the Artist: Thanks to Maraudersaffair for being consistently wonderful, even with my "leave it til the last minute, she'll be right" attitude. I feel very lucky to have got to illustrate your words, angst and all! I hope everyone enjoys reading this story as much as I enjoyed illustrating it!

* * *

Remus never pursued secrets. He happened on them. He had a face that said, _Confess anything! I won’t tell a soul!_ He was everyone’s favorite confidante.

When he was nine, his mum had pressed her face to the steering wheel of their Muggle car and said: “Your father doesn’t love me anymore.” He’d asked her why, because he thought he could handle the burden of any secret. 

Severus Snape wasn’t a nice person. He was mean, ill-tempered, bigoted. He attacked younger students in the corridors; he made sure everyone knew that he excelled at all his studies. Once he’d even stormed out of Potions when the class asked Slughorn to repeat instructions. “I could make this in my sleep!” he’d proclaimed loudly. “Only imbeciles don’t know this rubbish!”

He wasn’t the type to garner sympathy. He also wasn’t the type to confide in people, and yet Remus stumbled on his biggest secret.

Remus was in the back of the library. The book stacks were dusty, their spines either stiff from lack of use or falling apart from neglect. He’d been on his hands and knees, searching for a text from the nineteenth century. Binns had recommended it when Remus asked for further information on the wizarding community’s involvement in the 1848 Muggle revolutions. “You need to read a primary source to really understand,” Binns’d said. Now kneeling on the floor, Remus wanted to throttle him. Crawling back to his feet was going to hurt. The full moon wasn’t too long ago and—

“For the _last time_ , I don’t want to ever speak to you again!” a girl whispered.

“Please—let me explain.” This was a boy.

Remus stilled. He thought he recognized the voices.

The girl laughed. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“No! Of course not!” The boy sounded like he was hyperventilating. “I would never think something like that about you!”

“But you would call me a Mudblood in front of the whole school?” The girl laughed again. “You’re ridiculous. I don’t understand what you expect from me.”

“I’m so sorry. Please—I didn’t mean to call you that.”

“But somehow it just slipped out! Why should I be friends with somebody who uses slurs so casually they just _slip out_?”

“Lily— _please_.”

Remus’ eyes widened.

“No. I’m through. I don’t want to be friends with someone like you.”

“There has to be something I can do! I’ll do anything!”

“You can stop being friends with terrible people. You think I don’t hear the rumors? You think I don’t know what your little group is up to? The moment I’m out of sight, you probably join them in taunting me about my blood. You lot want to _kill_ people like me!”

“No! Never! I’d never want that—”

“Then prove it. Stop hanging around them.”

“I can’t do that,” the boy said quietly.

“Then we can’t be friends.” 

“No! Wait—” There was some rustling.

“Let go of me—” 

“I love you!” the boy whispered harshly.

“I know.” Lily sounded on the verge of tears. “But it’s not enough.” 

She rushed away. There was a horrible crash, like someone tore all the books from a shelf.

The boy rounded the corner and nearly stepped on Remus.

“Sorry,” Remus said, struggling to his feet. 

Snape shoved him against the wall. “What did you hear?”

He wanted to deny hearing anything, but he refused to cower. He glared at Snape. “I was minding my own business. It’s not my fault you decided to have a personal conversation where anyone could overhear.”

Snape punched him in the face. Remus fell to the ground, stunned.

“Next time I won’t be so nice!” Snape stormed away.

Remus lay where he fell for a while, too weary to get up. His jaw ached, but his knees hurt even more. He wished he didn’t have to feel like he’d been trampled by a hippogriff after the full moon.

He supposed he should be livid at Snape, but there was no sense in being angry at lunatics. When he finally made it back to his feet, he was trembling. He wondered if his mates were looking for him.

In the Gryffindor common room, he found the other Marauders crowded around a table near the window. They had their books out like they were studying, but Remus knew better.

Sirius’ eyes widened. “What happened to your face?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Remus touched his cheek. 

“It’s all red—like you’ve been thrashed.”

“Oh.” Remus didn’t meet his gaze. 

Sirius moved closer. “What happened? Did someone _hit you_?”

He hesitated. Sirius would want to know why Snape had punched him, and he felt strangely protective of what he’d just overheard. He doubted Lily would want others to know. 

“Some arsehole Slytherin cornered you, didn’t he?” Sirius’ face darkened. “Was it Avery? Was it Snivellus?” Remus didn’t say anything, which made Sirius smile. “Let’s go find them.” 

A thrill shot through Remus. Yeah, why not?

“Brilliant,” James said, closing his book. “I was looking for a distraction.”

“The last time I saw Avery he was coming out of Charms,” Peter said.

They stomped from the common room. They were off to war. It took a bit of help from the map, but they found Avery, Mulciber, and Snivellus in the dungeons. God. They were seriously the ugliest blokes Remus had ever seen. 

“Oh look, it’s the Gryffindorks,” Avery said.

James shook his head sadly. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

Avery smirked. “At least my mum isn’t so old she shits dust.”

Shrugging, James said, “Fair point, but it does help us save on toilet paper.”

“Didn’t your father just die, Potter?” Snape said. “No more need to save when there’s one less old arse to wipe.”

“That’s funny,” Sirius said, faking a laugh. “Everyone here knows your family can’t even afford a toilet.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Say what you will about my family, but at least my mum _loves_ me. Didn’t yours just throw you out?”

“Do they, though?” Sirius cocked his head and squinted. “Because I’m not so sure judging by the face they gave you.”

Snape threw the first curse; it struck the wall next to Sirius’ head. “ _Locomotor Wibbly_!” Sirius yelled. Snape collapsed. 

“ _Calvorio_!” James was aiming at Mulciber; the curse ricocheted off hanging armor and hit Avery, but it malfunctioned: Avery’s hair grew large and curly instead of disappearing.

James laughed and laughed. “Look, everyone, Avery’s got a minge on his head!”

Snape hit James in the stomach with _something_ ; James fell to the ground, clutching his midsection. Knowing the severity of Snape’s curses, Remus was immediately alarmed. He sent a stunner at Snape’s face and dropped to his aching knees to help James. 

“It’s all right,” James said, shaking a little. “I’m not bleeding or anything.”

“Are you in pain?” Remus asked.

Sirius was still battling with Mulciber and Avery; Snape lay on the floor, probably unconscious. “Get him to the hospital wing!” Sirius yelled. 

“What is going on here?” McGonagall stood at the end of the corridor, wand drawn and an intense frown on her face.

They all stilled; no one made sound except for Snape, who grunted and attempted to sit up.

McGonagall came closer. “I ask again: What is going on?”

Peter tried to hide behind Sirius, which prompted him to gather the courage to speak first. He put his wand away and hung his head. “We were being foolish,” Sirius said.

“Yes, that is quite obvious.” She crouched over Snape. “Do you need medical attention?”

“No, Professor.” Snape pulled himself to his feet, his expression murderous. His eyes flashed from Remus to Sirius, then he grinned when he saw James. “But it looks like Potter needs some help.”

“I’m fine.” James tried to stand up but gasped and sat back down. 

“Fifty points from Slytherin,” McGonagall said. “I will not tolerant violence in the corridors!”

“What about them?” Avery and Snape yelled. 

“They will be punished, rest assured.” She jabbed the air with her wand. “Now off you go. I will be speaking to Professor Slughorn about your stupidity!”

Glaring and flourishing wands, the three Slytherins disappeared down the corridor. Remus let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

McGonagall looked even angrier. “ _Sixty points_ from Gryffindor!” She motioned Remus away and examined James closely with her wand. “No internal damage, Thank Merlin. You boys need to stop acting like such fools!”

They hung their heads; even James looked a bit guilty. “Sorry, Professor,” he muttered, still clutching his stomach.

“Get yourself to the hospital wing for an ice charm,” she said. “And for the rest of you, get back to the common room. You have disgraced yourselves enough today!”

They helped James shuffle to the hospital wing and briefly considered staying with him until McGonagall poked her head inside and barked at them to leave.

“Can you handle it here without us?” Sirius asked.

“I’ll try not to cry myself to sleep,” James said, already dozing from a sleeping potion.

“Tomorrow I’ll bring you a bun from breakfast,” Peter said. “One with currants.”

“Thanks, mate.” James’ eyelids flickered. They left.

Back in the common room, Peter yawned loudly. “I’m knackered,” he said, and drifted up to bed.

Sirius and Remus looked at each other. The room was busy tonight, so they were by no means alone, but it was weird to suddenly not have James or Peter with them. 

“So who hit you?” Sirius asked.

“Nobody,” Remus said, laughing a little. “I just wanted to cause trouble.”

“That’s quite naughty of you,” Sirius said, laughing too, his eyes brighter than usual. Remus’ hand twitched; he saw himself leaning in and kissing Sirius; the firelight made his lips look pink and full, and Remus wanted to taste them just once. 

Remus turned away. He brushed a hand over his face. He didn’t know how Sirius was reading him, but he couldn’t help if he was being awkward. It was so easy to self-destruct around Sirius.

“I guess I’m tired too,” Remus said, not meeting Sirius’ gaze.

“You guess?”

“Yeah, I dunno.” Melancholy draped over him like a cloak; it comforted him to let in a little self-pity.

“The night’s young . . . there’s still time to play some chess or finish some homework . . .”

“No, that’s all right.” Remus forced a laugh. “I’ll follow Wormtail up to bed.”

Sirius grabbed his shoulder as Remus made for the staircase. The touch was awkward, weak, and his fingertips just skimmed over his robes. Remus didn’t have the nerve to look back at him. He went up the staircase, his heart pounding. 

He shook as he got ready for bed. He hated it when Sirius touched him; what did it _mean_? It meant nothing! He was ridiculous if he thought otherwise. Sirius was _too attractive_ to want him. He could have any girl in the school, probably any woman in Britain, why would he even think about Remus in that way? 

He pulled his hangings closed and buried himself under his covers. He wanted to be invisible. He wanted to just be alone for once, but that was damn near impossible at Hogwarts. 

Remus didn’t know anyone like himself. He was a werewolf who liked boys. He shouldered both secrets equally, or at least he did until the other Marauders discovered his furry little problem. His mates knew about his lycanthropy but they could never know about his sexuality. No one around him was homosexual. It was a myth, an unspoken terror. He would’ve been perfectly happy to carry this truth deep inside if Sirius hadn’t mucked it all up. 

Sometimes it hurt to look at Sirius. Sometimes, when they sat close while studying or watching James play Quidditch, Remus thought he might go mad from not touching him. He never knew what Sirius was thinking, but there were times when he leaned too closely to Remus, when his hands lingered for too long on his shoulder or back. Remus was determined not to read too much into it. Sirius was an affectionate bloke. He was always crowding James on the sofa or in bed; he was always reaching for James, like he needed an anchor. Remus wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t. 

Sirius was _pretty_. He was breathtaking. Remus understood why all the girls gawked at him, why they showered him with Valentines on February 14. Remus wrote Sirius Valentines as well. He just sent them anonymously. 

He wasn’t _in love_ with Sirius. No, he was too practical for that. He was obsessed with Sirius. He worshipped him. He would _die_ for him. 

Remus touched his cheek. He sympathized with Snape. Really, he did. He couldn’t imagine Snape overhearing his declaration of love to Sirius. He cringed and pressed his face into his pillow. God, he’d be mortified. He wouldn’t have _punched_ Snape, but he could see why Snape had punched him. It was what bastards did when cornered.

 _Serves him right_ , Remus thought, remembering Snape taking his stunner to the face.

Sirius. Oh, Sirius. Remus didn’t understand him. They were good mates; they were nearly inseparable. Remus trusted him with his life, but Sirius was unknowable. He was strong and talented; he was moody and traumatized; he clung to a close few and pushed the rest of the world out. He was tall and elegant and had a mouth like a woman’s. He evaded darkness; he shone so bright that sometimes Remus couldn’t even look. Still, his mind was something blank to Remus, his motivations a deep mystery. Remus wanted to know. 

An hour or so later Sirius came up to the dormitory. He undressed in the dark, his robes and shirt rustling loudly; then his belt banged against his thigh, and Remus knew he was down to just his pants. He was close and damn near starkers, and Remus could do nothing about it. He groaned a little, muffled by the bedding; he couldn’t breathe; he wanted too much.

*

Remus had long ago accepted that he was an unlucky person, but being paired with Snape for the biggest Potions exam of the year was one of the worst things that’d ever happened to him. Perhaps he was being just _a little_ melodramatic, but the world was changing. He beat against the encroaching years. Adulthood waited for the capture.

It also didn’t help that Snape was being _weird_ , and Remus had no idea what to make of it. The first day of their project Snape shrugged and handed him a knife. “It could’ve been worse. At least you know what you’re doing.”

“I do?” Remus asked. 

“We’ll see.”

Remus snorted and looked across the room for his mates. Peter had been paired with Mulciber (bless him) and Sirius had been paired with Lily. Thank God James wasn’t in this class. Sirius caught his eye and winked. Remus smirked back, but his stomach squirmed pleasantly. He loved it when Sirius winked at him. 

Snape poked him hard in the shoulder. “These roots aren’t going to chop themselves.”

“Right,” Remus said, and began to slice the roots quickly. He blew out his cheeks. No, he needed to slow down. The success of his whole year depended on getting good marks on this project. No matter how much he rushed through the prep, he’d still be stuck with Snape for _weeks_.

Slughorn wandered around the classroom, his mustache twitching, his nose red from the bubbling cauldrons. He liked challenging them; he liked pairing Gryffindors and Slytherins together, but only when he was certain the Slytherin was better.

Frowning, Remus read over the instructions for _Flore Pectora_ ; Slughorn never expected them to deviate from the textbook but it looked like Snape had other plans.

“How can you even read the instructions with all those scribbles?” Remus leaned over to get a better look at Snape’s book.

Snape smirked. “The textbook is rubbish. It’s a shame you haven’t realized it before.”

“I never said I was an expert at Potions.”

“No, of course not; your head is too far up your own arse for that.”

“You just said I was good at this,” Remus said, a little amused.

“I said you know what you’re doing, not that you’re _good_.” 

“Do you think anyone is good at Potions? Besides yourself, of course.”

Snape flinched. “A few.” 

Remus glanced at Lily and Sirius; he had a feeling he knew what’d made Snape flinch. 

He shifted and tried not to show his discomfort. He was wary of Snape’s wand. He kept his eye on it as he finished up his chopping, then turned to crushing some beetle heads. Standing this close, Snape could do a lot of damage to him. He could put a curse on Remus that only revealed itself hours later. He could stick one of those joke parchments that read _Kick me here_ on Remus’ backside; those were always annoying. The joke was that everyone could see the parchment except for the person wearing it.

It was only a few weeks ago when Remus’s stunner had struck Snape in the face. Why was Snape being so . . . calm? Remus squinted; he was probably plotting something.

“What?” Snape said, not looking away from his own slicing.

Remus continued to squint. “Old Slughorn isn’t going to pass us if we can’t work together.”

“It seems like we’re getting on just fine,” Snape said.

“Do I have to worry about you cursing me?”

“Around the potion? Absolutely not.”

“And not around the potion?”

Snape hesitated. “No . . . not unless you give me reason.”

“We hate each other. Anything could give you reason.”

“I don’t hate you.”

Remus laughed. “Of course you do.”

Snape finally looked at him. “How can I hate you when I never think of you?”

He blinked. “You think of James and Sirius.”

Snorting, Snape said, “Just barely.”

 _Liar_ , he thought. “Shall we shake on it, then? A wizard’s agreement?”

“Must we? I think I can stop myself from beating your arse for six weeks.”

“Beating my arse? The last time I checked I’d knocked you _unconscious_.”

“Ha! You wish!” Snape took up a towel to wipe his hands. “I was merely catching my breath.”

“I still insist on the handshake,” Remus said, definitely not trusting this friendlier version of Snape. 

“This is ridiculous,” Snape said, but he put down the towel. He yanked Remus’ arm into a handshake, his fingers cold and biting. “Is this enough or do I need to drop to my knees, too?”

“It’s enough.” He stepped away and glanced passed Snape; Sirius was glowering at them, which made Remus raise his eyebrows. Sirius turned back to his work.

“We need to meet tonight,” Snape said.

“Why?” Remus had a lot of homework to finish up before tomorrow.

Snape made a frustrated noise. “Our project has to be the best. This means research. This means experimentation.”

“Nobody else is going to do that much work!”

“A few will, and I refuse to be second best.” Snape straightened his back. “You don’t have to be there, but you are fooling yourself if you think I’m going to do all the work and stay quiet about it.”

“I’m not—Christ, Snape!” Remus ran his hands over his face. “ _Fine._ I’ll be there.”

“Good. Meet me in the library after dinner.”

Remus groaned.

*

That night Remus met Snape in the library. It was crowded like usual, all the candles lit up on the walls.

The potion they had to make was deadly. Stopping the heart was its main purpose. A bloom in the chest; the strangling of veins. Remus thought it was a bit morbid, but he supposed it was a helpful concoction to know. It could be used in murder or in magical surgery; the extraction of the pulmonary vein mid-message would be impossible without it. Remus was surprised that Snape wasn’t already salivating.

“The selection in this place is pathetic,” Snape said. He slammed down yet another book on the table.

“Isn’t it renowned?” Remus asked.

“Only by idiots.” Snape flipped through the book, then glanced in the direction of the restricted section. “They lock up everything of value.”

Remus knew what kind of texts were in the restricted section. He shook his head. “You’re only interested in magic that maims.”

“No,” Snape muttered. “I’m interested in magic that gives me _power_.”

“Christ.” As if he needed any more proof that Snape was an arsehole. “You’re barmy.”

Snape found something useful in the book and hastily copied down the section, his nose almost touching the parchment. Remus studied the differences between the textbook and Snape’s own notes. He knew enough to know that Snape’s alterations bordered on brilliant. 

“I’m impressed,” he said reluctantly. “Who knew you could achieve so much when you don’t have any friends?”

“I have friends.” Snape glanced in his direction. “What in particular impresses you?”

“I never would’ve thought to use both the stem and the petal of the sanguine flower.”

“Yes, I made that discovery by accident, but we’ll have to try loads of different things for this project.”

Remus thought for a moment. “The textbook does say the potion relies heavily on the heads of ginger ants . . . we could try incorporating the entire body of the ant and see what happens.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” Snape tapped his wand against the table, contemplating. “Frankly, I think Slughorn supplies subpar insects; the beetles he has us using are practically fossilized. We should look for fresh in the Forbidden Forest.”

“No.”

Snape frowned. “Why not? You’re obviously familiar with the place.”

“I just don’t want to.” Remus stared down at his hands. The forest belonged to the Marauders; Snape had no business being there. 

“Fine, I’ll go by myself.” Snape yanked another book open. 

“Just . . . don’t go when there’s a full moon,” Remus whispered.

“When’s the next one?”

“Two Saturdays from now, on the fifth of March.”

Snape jotted this down in the corner of his book. “I’ll have to go before then anyway.”

“Good.” Remus bounced his leg; it was weird to talk to someone new about his lycanthropy. 

“Here,” Snape said, and handed him a list. “Go find these books for me.”

“I’m not your errand boy,” Remus said as he stood. It took a good hour to track down every book except for one. When he asked the librarian about its location, he discovered that Lily had already checked it out. 

He dropped off the books and made to pack up his belongings. Snape glared at him. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve already been here for too long. My mates are going to think you murdered me or something.”

“I’m going to murder you if you don’t sit back down!” Snape handed him the top book. “Look in there for any theories on hearts or blood or death.”

Remus read the title out loud: “ _The Mystery of the Heart: Potions and Curses in the New Era of Blood Magic_. Snape, that’s the entire book!”

Snape smiled wickedly. “I guess you’re going to be here all night.”

“You are such a git.” Remus flipped to the index and began strategizing on how best to tackle the book.

An hour or so later, Remus closed the book and stood to stretch his arms. “I’m done for tonight. It feels like I’ve been here for _years_.”

“You sound pathetic.” Snape handed him the remaining books. “Read these before we meet next.”

“I don’t have time for this! The world isn’t going to end if we don’t search through every damn book in here!” 

Snape shook his head. “Merlin, Lupin. If I had a Galleon for every intelligent thing you say, I’d be poor.”

“Judging by your underpants, you’re already poor.” Remus grabbed the books and left.

The corridors were empty, the candles burning low in the walls. Sodding Snape. He’d kept Remus in the library for the whole evening; when was he going to find the time to do the rest of his homework?

The Gryffindor common room was nearly as empty as the corridors. James and Peter had already gone off to bed; Sirius sat by the fire, staring moodily into the flames.

“All right there?” Remus flopped into the chair next to Sirius.

Sirius barely looked at him. “You were gone a long time.”

“Snivellus insisted on it.” Remus sighed and rubbed at his face. “Fuck.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked Slughorn for a switch.”

“I didn’t even think about it.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sirius stood. “More Muggles were found dead this morning.”

“Oh?” Remus frowned up at him.

Sirius nodded. “The next time you’re alone with Snivellus, you should ask him what he thinks about _that_.” He climbed the stairs to their dormitory, his back a stiff line.

Remus gaped at him. He sat for a good while before collecting his bag and following Sirius upstairs. The dormitory was quiet; Peter was snoring softly and James’ arm dangled off the side of his bed. Sirius’ hangings were closed. Remus pulled them open to find Sirius glaring at him.

“It doesn’t mean we’re mates,” Remus said.

“It’s still _wrong_ ,” Sirius said, and tried to pull his hangings close. The top button on his pyjamas was undone, revealing some of his collarbone. God. Remus just wanted to crawl into bed with him. 

“Are you doing this with Peter too? Giving him the cold shoulder?”

“We both know Peter’s too stupid to even notice.” Sirius clawed at his fingers; Remus felt the warm sleepiness of him. Remus grabbed his wrist and twisted a little. His mouth was dry. They were going to wrestle.

“You little shite, let go of me!”

“No, not until you stop being ridiculous.” He swallowed down a bubble of laughter. 

“This isn’t funny!” Sirius tried punching him in the stomach. “This is life or death!”

“It’s going to be life or death if you don’t let me sleep!” James yelled. 

“Sod off, Prongs,” Sirius said. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Then fucking mime your row or something,” James said, twisting around angrily. He called them twats and shoved a pillow over his head.

Remus rammed his whole body into Sirius; they toppled onto his bed, tussling, breathing hard. Sirius was all sharp elbows. Remus was angry now. Sirius was so _stupid_ ; he was so blind. Remus had wanted for so long, and Sirius had the nerve to be the one upset.

Remus caught a fist in his side, then in his chest. He kneed Sirius in the groin, which made Sirius yelp.

“Uncalled for!” Sirius grunted.

“Your face is uncalled for.” Remus tried to hit some more, but Sirius caught both of his wrists. “Let go of me!”

“Be quiet.” Sirius pulled him closer. He wrapped his arms around Remus and pressed his face to his neck. 

Remus didn’t understand. He gasped for breath, adrenaline still making lead of his limbs. He became aware of how he crouched above Sirius, how Sirius’ wet mouth touched his skin. No, it couldn’t be. He was reading this all wrong. Sirius was just trying to immobilize him.

“Sirius,” he said, and he hated what he sounded like.

“Don’t say anything,” Sirius whispered. 

Remus gulped. His heart pounded so hard it hurt. He relaxed a little and let his nose brush Sirius’ hair. Sirius smelled amazing. He shifted underneath Remus; their chests and thighs brushed. If Remus relaxed a little more, perhaps he could brush against Sirius’ prick . . .

Remus yanked away. His legs were wrapped up in the duvet and he ended up on his arse on the floor. He needed the loo. He was hard; he was hard and Sirius had probably felt it.

“What’s happening?” Peter asked groggily. 

“Nothing!” Remus said too loudly. “Just go back to sleep.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” Peter prodded his pillow.

This was when Sirius should’ve said something snarky, but he remained silent. Christ. Remus hurried from the room. Sirius knew. He fucking _knew_. Remus couldn’t breathe. Sirius would tell James, and they would do what? Pity him? Laugh at him? Fuck. Fuck. 

In the loo, he pressed his forehead against the cold wall. He dropped his trousers to get a fist around his cock. No, he wouldn’t wank. It wasn’t right. He’d just traumatized one of his best mates. But fuck Sirius had felt good beneath him. Sirius was a little taller than him, and his legs had been long and graceful and _warm_. 

Remus jerked in his hand. Christ. Okay. It was fine if nobody knew. He vowed to never wrestle with Sirius again. Yes, that made it better. His fist moved on his cock. Yes, yes. Sirius. _Sirius._ Maybe one day he could get Sirius to touch him. Just as a joke. Sirius would roll his eyes and brush his knuckles against Remus’ clothed erection.

“Looks like you got a bit of a problem,” Sirius would say.

“And not a minge in sight.” Remus would sound mournful, a bit doubtful, even as he moved closer.

He remembered how soft Sirius’ lips had felt against his neck, and he was coming hard and silently, a white flash filling his head. He slumped against the wall, wrecked, strangely emotional. It was a long time before he went back up to bed.

*

The next time Remus met up with Snape in the library, he was irritated, wound up, frustrated about many things with little outlet. He wanted to throw a book in Sirius’ face; he wanted to tell everyone around him to just _fuck off_ ; he couldn’t wait to run with the Marauders under the full moon. Snape sneered.

“What?” Remus snapped.

“You didn’t read the books.”

“I read some of them!”

“You imbecile. Flipping through the pages is not the same as reading the full text.”

Remus gritted his teeth. “Do not call me names. I’m in no mood for it.”

Snape didn’t flinch; he tilted his head, curious. “Is this because of your condition? Your bad mood?”

“Most likely,” Remus muttered.

Snape jotted a note in the margin of his parchment.

“Don’t write that down!”

“Oops,” Snape said, looking bored.

Sighing loudly, Remus opened the books he’d admittedly only flipped through quickly. He worked for a good stretch of time, adding to the notes he’d generated on his own, but then his mind wandered. He wondered what Sirius was doing. He was probably doing homework back in the common room; he could never find his textbooks and usually just leaned close to James to read his. They were probably crowded together, arms brushing, as they hastily finished their Charms essays. He wondered if Sirius missed him. 

“Will you stop playing with yourself, and actually _do something_?” Snape said.

Remus spluttered. “I’m not playing with myself!”

Snape stole his notes and flipped through them with a sneer on his face. “And of course you came here with nothing more than a few obvious conclusions.”

“There’s some good stuff there! I admit that most of it was done last minute, but not all of it is rubbish.”

Snape snorted. “Masturbation is like procrastination—it’s all good fun until you realize you’re just fucking yourself.”

Remus pressed his face to the table. He was not going to laugh at something Snape said. He refused. When he recovered, he sat back up and took back his notes. “Christ, you’re a lunatic.”

“You have no idea,” Snape muttered, his enormous nose stuffed inside a book.

Remus glanced at the bookshelves in the back. He had some idea. He tried reading his notes to highlight the valuable parts, but his mind kept straying to Snape and Lily. It was a bad idea to bring it up with Snape, but his years as a Marauder had made him comfortable with risk.

“How do you know Lily?” Remus asked.

“Drop it.” Snape didn’t look at him, but his voice was dangerously low.

“You don’t have to admit to anything; I’m just curious how you know each other.”

“We don’t.” Snape glared at his book. 

“You don’t know her but you think you lov—”

“Shut up!” Snape roared. 

“No yelling!” the librarian yelled from somewhere in the stacks. 

“There’s no need to get so prickly.” Remus was enjoying himself.

Snape heaved a breath. He bared his teeth. “You want to _survive_ this project, werewolf?” he whispered. “Then don’t fucking talk about her.”

Remus lounged in his chair. “I don’t understand why it’s such a big secret.”

“It’s not; it’s just none of your fucking business.”

“What if I want to make it my business?” Remus linked his hands behind his head and widened his legs; casual and cool. 

Snape stood. He collected his things and laughed down at Remus. “You’re never going to be like them, you know. People like us don’t get happy endings.”

“What?” Remus dropped his hands. 

He walked away.

*

The next day Remus expected to be summoned to Slughorn’s office. No way would Snape want to continue partnering with him for the project. Instead he woke up to a note fluttering by his head. He blinked and reached for it, but it evaded his hand. Cursing, he sat up and grabbed it so violently he crushed its wings.

He recognized the writing inside: _She was my best friend_.

He blinked, not understanding. Did the potion have something to do with friendship? No, Snape was talking about Lily. But why would he tell Remus? 

His mates were still asleep. Remus tiptoed from bed to pull out some parchment from his bag. He hesitated with quill in hand. _She’s better off without you_ , he wanted to write. Instead he jotted down: _There’ll be other girls_. He opened the window and let out the note like a fly. 

Remus was having breakfast when the next note appeared. _No there won’t_. He rolled his eyes. Talk about being dramatic. 

“What’s that?” Sirius asked.

“It’s a note from Snivellus.”

“Blimey,” James said. “I’m surprised it’s not dripping in grease.” Peter laughed around his bite of sausage. 

“Why is he sending you notes?” Sirius sneered a little.

“I honestly don’t know.” Remus frowned at him. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Sure.” Sirius rose from the table. “I’ve got to go. See you lot later.”

“What has gotten into him?” Remus said to James.

James shrugged. “Best to just ask him.”

“I could ask him for you,” Peter said.

“Don’t do that.” Remus forked an egg onto his toast and shoved the whole thing into his mouth. The full moon approached.

He was in History of Magic when he received the third note from Snape. It told Remus to meet him in the dungeons that night. Remus was suspicious. 

After dinner, he crept to the dungeons with his wand drawn. He was wary. It could be an ambush. He found Snape in a tiny room filled with Potions equipment. Perhaps this was where Slughorn experimented.

“You’re late,” Snape said. He stood in front of three empty cauldrons. He tapped his wand against one and listened closely.

Remus dropped his bag and came closer. He didn’t pocket his wand. “What are you doing?”

“I’m testing the cauldron’s material. Most of what this school provides us is rubbish.”

“I bet it’s better than anything you could afford.” Remus pulled out three lists of possible alterations to the ingredients. Unable to hide a bit of a smirk, he handed them over to Snape. “See, I _am_ capable.”

Snape took out his own lists. He compared them. He nodded. “Good. We’ve come to many of the same conclusions.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He pointed to something on both the parchments. “I’m impressed you identified Ashwinder Eggs on your own. Not many people know they pair well with the sanguine flower.”

Remus shrugged. “It was in one of the books. I’m surprised it’s not included in the textbook instructions.”

“I told you the textbook was useless.” Snape shook his head. “It’s like they mislead us on purpose. They don’t want us to think for ourselves!”

Remus examined the cauldrons. “I assume the plan is to make three separate potions to determine which combination of ingredients is the best?”

“Correct.” Snape examined their lists again. He underlined a few ingredients. “I have a feeling using the entire ginger ant body will not interact with Ashwinder Egg properly. For Potion A, we should leave it out entirely. Then for Potion B, we should use the ant body but leave out the egg. Potion C should include all three: the egg, the sanguine flower, and the ginger ant body. What do you think?”

Remus blinked. What did he think? “Honestly, I don’t know enough to determine if any of this is going to make a difference.”

“That’s why we’re _experimenting_.”

“Yes, Professor.”

Snape grimaced. He pulled out three leather pouches from his bag. “I visited the Forbidden Forest last night.”

“Oh? Did you see any dangerous creatures?”

“No, you weren’t there.”

Remus laughed reluctantly; Snape was just trying to rile him up but his comeback had been funny. Remus had to give credit where it was due. Snape looked pleased. 

“You want to make sure not to touch the sanguine flower with your bare hands,” Snape said. He cast a protection spell on his hands and held up a red and white petal. “This potion is very temperamental. Even the grease from your skin could change the way the compounds interact.”

“Isn’t the sanguine flower also poisonous to the touch? I wouldn’t want to pick it up anyway.”

Snape gaped at his raised hands. “Oh, no,” he said in a staged whisper.

“Shut up,” Remus said, smiling. “You’d be dead if you picked those flowers without gloves.”

“Only on the inside,” Snape muttered. 

“Let’s get to work, you weirdo,” he said, shaking his head.

It took them the next two nights to prepare all the ingredients. Snape said it was best to add live ants directly into the potion, and it was a damn experience trying to drop in the right amount without them crawling out the jar and up his arm. The Ashwinder Eggs were another ordeal. They kept bursting into flames before Remus was able to add them; one even burst into flame in Remus’ palm. He yelped and flung it away. Snape laughed so hard he teared up.

By the end of the week, they had the three potions bubbling in their cauldrons. Remus peered into each one, relieved, more than a little proud. He was sweaty, agitated. He couldn’t wait for the weekend. He couldn’t wait for the release of the full moon. He caught Snape staring.

“What?” he said.

Snape dragged his eyes away. He played with some loose string on his robes. “The full moon is tomorrow,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” Remus said, trying not to bounce on his feet. 

“What does it feel like?”

Remus wasn’t expecting this question. “What do you think it feels like?”

“I read that it hurts. I read it was the most pain a human could feel.” Snape was looking at him with a great deal of interest. 

“It is very painful initially, but then something happens and suddenly it’s not. Suddenly it feels good. It feels incredible . . . almost like sex.”

“No way.” Snape jerked his head. “No way it feels like that.”

“How would you know!”

“I’ve got a brain. I’m not stupid. No way does turning into a bloody werewolf feel like _sex_.”

“Are you supposed to be some expert or something? A virgin like you?”

Snape flushed. “I’m not a virgin!”

“ _Sure_.” Remus laughed. “No minge would even want to get close.”

“You haven’t shagged anyone either!”

“Yes, I have. Of course I have.” Remus avoided his eyes. 

Snape smirked. “It’s funny you of all people are talking about shagging minges.”

Remus went cold. “What do you mean?”

Shrugging, Snape packed up his stuff. He checked the flames under the potions, then cast alarm spells around their work area. He headed for the door. “You know exactly what I mean.” He left.

*

The next night, the Marauders helped Remus to the Shrieking Shack. This close to the moon he could barely walk on his own; he had the biggest urge to _crawl_ down the tunnel to the Shack’s hidden entrance.

Sirius helped him take off his robes and shoes. Then came his jumper and vest top. He took Remus into his arms and they eased down to some blankets on the floor. Sirius always did this for him right before the transformation, and Remus was always too lost to appreciate it.

“We’re going to head to the forest now.” James squeezed Remus’ shoulder. “Hang in there. We’ll be waiting for you.” Remus trembled too much to answer.

When James and Peter had slipped back into the tunnel, Sirius pulled Remus even closer. He pressed his lips to his temple. He murmured: “Everything’s going to be okay. You’re so brave, Moony.”

 _I hate this, I hate this, I hate this,_ Remus wanted to say. Instead he whined softly and pressed his nose to Sirius’ neck. God, Sirius smelled like home. He smelled like happiness. Remus wanted to hold him down and fuck him. He wanted to lick every part of him. He wanted to cling to him and never let go. 

The wait was the worst part. It was like waiting for his own execution. He’d read in one of Binns’ books that the Ministry used to line up murderous wizards to AK them one by one. He knew how those wizards felt. The panting fear. The dread. God, let it just be over!

When Remus started yelling, Sirius turned into Padfoot and backed away. Remus convulsed on the floor. His eyes rolled. His bones snapped and realigned. He howled. The pain overcame him, and on the other side: euphoria.

The werewolf and the dog left the Shack. They emerged from the tunnel, barking, howling. Their noses took them to the stag and rat. The four animals made strange company, but the werewolf didn’t care. He was elated; he was playful. Sometimes he tried to eat the rat.

The animals ran. They hunted. The werewolf was flying; he was invincible. He was pack leader. Even the dog knew not to challenge his authority.

The night was endless; it was as long as a heartbeat. The werewolf could survive anything with his friends at his side. 

When Remus woke up in the morning, his head was cradled in Sirius’ lap. He was surrounded by thick blankets, so he couldn’t really feel anything, but the proximity still made him gasp softly.

“Is the pain that bad?” Sirius asked. 

Remus couldn’t answer. Sirius caressed his head; he pushed back his fringe gently; his fingers were so warm. Remus stared. He was too knackered to force himself to look away. Sirius stared back. His eyes were mesmerizing. 

“Last night was a lot of fun.” Sirius smiled. “I think you ate a rabbit.”

“Good,” Remus whispered. 

Sirius Conjured some water. He cleaned away dirt from Remus’ face with a corner of a blanket. Remus sighed. 

“Where do you hurt most?” Sirius asked.

“My arms.”

Starting at his shoulder, Sirius massaged down Remus’ right arm. Remus winced and gasped; he moaned softly. Sirius lingered on his biceps; he pressed his thumbs into Remus’ palm; he caressed over his wrist. Remus quickly turned into goo. Sirius did the same for his left arm.

Remus touched the drying blood on his face. “I still hurt myself.”

“The wolf gets excited. He doesn’t know his own limits.” Sirius pulled down the blanket to check for gashes on Remus’ chest. Remus held his breath. He was too sleepy to control himself.

“Relax. I’m not trying to see your bits.” Sirius sounded amused.

“Too bad,” Remus murmured. He fell asleep.

The next thing he knew, he was in the hospital wing. Sometimes his mates levitated him from the Shack to the castle and this always made emotion well up in his chest: They really did care. Everything was dark and quiet, and Remus blinked against the gloom. There was rustling; somewhere in the shadows Sirius was asleep under the Invisibility Cloak. He liked to watch over Remus after bad transformations. He did the same after James suffered bad Quidditch injuries.

Remus remembered how Sirius had cradled his head, how he cleaned his face and whispered to him. Remus shivered. Oh, God.

He forced himself to sit up. Someone had thought to bring his school things. He Summoned his Transfiguration textbook and cast a _Lumos_. He couldn’t fall behind on his homework. He’d learned quickly that he needed to carry on after his transformations. His workload didn’t decrease just because he had an ailment of the howling kind.

He read until his eyes refused to focus. He fell asleep with the book open on his chest and his glowing wand hovering in the air.

*

Remus left the hospital wing early Monday. Sometimes he was able to leave the morning after a transformation, other times he was bedridden for an entire week. He could never predict the werewolf’s demand on his body.

He struggled through his classes. He wasn’t able to keep food down. His knees and shoulders ached; the gashes on his face fought off scabs. He just wanted his bed.

That night, he met Snape to track their potions. He knew he looked wrecked. There was no use in trying to hide his face. Snape stared. 

“You’re not going to bleed on the potions, are you?”

Christ. He should’ve just stayed in the hospital wing. “No, I’m not, but if I have to bleed on anything, I’ll make sure it’s you.” 

Snape snorted and stirred Potion A twice. He watched for any change, then scribbled some notes directly into his textbook. “Potion A is responding well to the Ashwinder Egg.”

“That’s great.” Remus could barely focus his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

Blinking, Remus said, “No, not really.” He just wanted to rest his head on the table. Snape moved about him, but he didn’t take any notice. He attempted to examine the potions and write down some notes. Why did the room have to be so bright?

“Here,” Snape said, standing close. He had some fresh paste in his mortar. He dipped his fingers into the mixture and reached for Remus’ face, but then dropped his hand. He shoved the mortar to Remus. “Put this on your cuts. It’ll heal them in a couple of hours.”

Remus frowned at the paste. He smelled it. “You’re not trying to disfigure me, are you?”

“No,” Snape said, not looking at him. Remus, feeling a bit stupid, smeared some of the paste on his cuts. His skin tingled, the sting eased, and scabs began to form. He was amazed. He stared at Snape. 

“Thank you,” he said, disturbed.

“Don’t mention it.” Snape fiddled with the potions, his head turned away.

Remus stood shakily and shouldered his heavy bag. “I’m going to leave early, if you don’t mind.” 

Snape turned back to him. He rolled his eyes. “You are such a moron.” He swished his wand and Remus’ bag slipped from his shoulder to levitate next to him. “I know your mum is a Muggle, but have some brains every once in a while.”

Remus didn’t know how to respond. He left. His walk back to the common room was slow, tedious, and his mind wandered to many things. What in the world was going on with Snape?

*

Over the next two weeks, Remus didn’t see Snape outside class. Throughout the day, he checked the potions and made sure no one was tampering with them. Every time he ventured down to the dungeons Snape wasn’t there. He thought this distance would calm Sirius, but it didn’t. He just glared and said, “Let this whole mess be over.”

Remus tended to agree, though he did like tracking the potions’ progression. It looked like Potion A was the clear winner; it was amazing that adding a snake egg could create such a vibrant red. The other potions almost looked purple in comparison. Remus checked the textbook and his notes from all those damn library books: _Flore Pectora_ was meant to be red, not purple. He sighed in relief.

One night, he didn’t leave immediately after visiting the potions. He cleared himself a workspace. He had a tricky DADA essay to finish, and it was very quiet in this part of the dungeons.

It also gave him time to think about Sirius. He fiddled with his quill, his eyes unfocused. It was like Sirius was two different people. He’d been so caring, so affectionate during the full moon that Remus had been convinced he was done holding this project against him. But he’d gone back to his sneering and hostile silence once Remus had recovered. That was how it’d always been with Sirius. There were times when he’d smile at Remus, touch his shoulder, stare into his eyes, and Remus would think: _Christ. Can it be true?_ These moments never lasted. It was like Sirius was terrified to need anyone but himself. Remus shook his head. Sirius was blind to the power he had over people.

There was the sound of footsteps in the corridor. Remus turned in time to catch Snape come through the door. Snape startled but then quickly smoothed his expression.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Remus squinted. “You act like I have no business here.”

“Do you? Because from where I’m standing, I did most of the work.”

“No you didn’t!” Remus stood. He’d be ready if they were actually going to fight. “I’ve been checking on the potions daily! I even looked up what color they’re supposed to be!”

“You looked up the _color_? Wow. What sacrifice.” Snape closed the space between them.

Remus took a step back. “What crawled up your arse and died?”

“Your mum!” Snape yelled.

Remus pretended to faint. “Wow, ouch. You really got me.” He grabbed his bag. “I’m leaving. You can work through this tantrum alone.” He left the room, but Snape followed him into the corridor.

“Running away to see your _boyfriend_?”

Remus forced himself to laugh. “Who’s my boyfriend?”

“You know who I’m talking about.”

“No, I really don’t.”

Again, Snape tried to come closer. Remus moved away. “It seems like you two are in a lovers’ spat.”

Remus went cold. He knew it showed on his face. “You could be talking about anyone.”

“Black is giving you the old cold shoulder.”

“Christ, Snape. Do you watch me or something?” There was no possible way he could know.

“Do you think I have something to do with it? Do you think he could be _jealous_?” Snape smirked. 

“I don’t know why he’s acting like that,” Remus said. “We aren’t friends.”

Snape glared a little. “I suppose I’m not good enough to be your friend.”

“I’d never be friends with someone like you.”

Snape took out his wand. “Please, go on.”

“You know what the fuck I’m talking about.” Remus held his wand too.

“One day you will finally be fed up with being second best.”

Remus shook his head. “And maybe one day you will stop seeing yourself as such a victim.”

“Of course we are victims! This world is against us!” Snape pressed forward; he was breathing hard and his cheeks were flushed. He whispered: “ _He_ believes werewolves should have rights. He knows he can’t win without them.”

“How nice of him,” Remus said, utterly disgusted. He couldn’t believe Snape was talking to him about this.

“I’m not joking.” Snape was twitching; he was excited, and awkward, and seemed barely able to control himself. “Soon things are going to be different, and people like us will be united in glory!”

“You sound deranged,” Remus said, trying to back away. He collided with the wall; Snape came closer still. 

“We both have secrets, don’t we?” Snape said quietly. 

“I have loads of secrets. You’ll need to be more specific.”

Snape gulped thickly. “Secrets about what we want.”

“I want a lot of things.”

“Stop being so fucking coy. You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” He stared into Snape’s ugly face. Snape wanted something from him, and it felt nice not to give in, like he had something worthy to give.

Snape reached out, his hand hesitating. He touched a scar on Remus’ cheek; his fingers were cold but gentle. Remus didn’t know what to think.

There was a noise, a grunt or a gasp, and suddenly Snape was on his back, unconscious. There’d been a flash, a blink of light. Remus looked around wildly.

Sirius, chest beating hard, stood a few steps away, his wand pointed at Snape. Remus gaped, unable to speak. Sirius surged forward. He was sputtering. 

“He—he was touching you!”

Remus gulped, then gulped again. “What are you doing here?”

“I can’t believe—! You let him touch you!”

“Did you use the map to find me?”

“Don’t.” He clutched Remus’ shoulder and covered his face with his other hand. He was hiding from Remus.

Remus jerked away. “What the fuck, Sirius? Nothing was going on!” He was livid; he felt betrayed. He was tired of Sirius acting like an utter loon. 

“You’re blind!” Sirius said. “You’re so fucking blind!”

Remus wanted to hit him. He had no idea, no bloody idea. Snape groaned and shifted on the floor.

“Let’s get out of here before he wakes up.” Sirius tugged him down the corridor; he refused to look at Remus. This made Remus even angrier. He shoved Sirius and stalked away. “Wait!”

“You are so stupid!” Remus yelled over his shoulder. Sirius grabbed him; Remus tried to punch him but missed.

“Remus,” Sirius said, and he didn’t sound like himself. He buried his hands in the front of Remus’ robes and pulled him closer. He kissed Remus, hard; his aim was off and his lips mostly landed on the corner of his mouth. 

Remus froze, his mind slow to understand what was happening. Sirius pulled back, his eyes large. 

“Sirius?” he said, unable to breathe.

“I’m sorry—I don’t—” Sirius ran away.

For a few minutes, Remus stood alone in the corridor, staring at nothing. Surely Sirius hadn’t meant to kiss him? He probably pulled Remus closer to shake some sense into him, then a mistake happened and their faces connected . . . .

No, that was ridiculous. Sirius had kissed him. He’d meant to kiss him. A _boy_ had pressed his lips to his. Remus wandered to another part of the castle, too wrapped up in his thoughts to know where he was going. 

Sirius had kissed him . . . but then he took off. He obviously regretted it. He was mortified. He probably did it for a laugh, but then saw Remus’ reaction and realized it was a terrible mistake. Realized that Remus was too bent to laugh with him.

He found an empty alcove and rested his head against the wall. He didn’t know what to think. His heart pounded. God, why had Sirius dashed away? Remus deserved answers; he deserved to know Sirius’ motives. It was the first kiss that’d meant something to him.

When he left the alcove, his hands were fisted at his sides. Sirius was probably hiding in his bed. He was probably with James, laughing, pretending nothing was wrong. Well, no matter. Remus headed to their dormitory to pay him a visit.

The other Marauders weren’t in the common room. Remus barreled through, uninterested in conversation. Lily raised her eyebrows at him.

He raced up the stairs and burst into their dormitory. His mates were crowded around a card game on James’ bed. Sirius jumped to his feet.

“James, Peter—out!” Remus said. 

James and Peter looked at each other, then shuffled to the door. “Give him hell,” James said to Remus before disappearing with Peter.

Remus slammed the door shut and locked it. He closed in on Sirius. “You are such an arse!”

“I can explain!” Sirius held his hands up; his eyes were frantic.

“You bastard!” Remus poked him in the chest; he had so much to say to Sirius. “You’ve been a prat ever since I got paired with Snape, which I had no fucking control over. Then you—you follow me!”

“I was worried about you! Snape knows about your problem. He’s wanted to ruin you since the prank!”

“I can take care of myself! I don’t need you breathing down my neck every time I have to work with slimy Slytherins.”

Sirius’ eyes flashed. “He was touching you! I can’t believe you let him do that!”

“Why do you care!” Remus yelled.

“Because you’re my friend! You’re my _best_ friend!”

Remus laughed. “I’m not your best friend. You fucking _worship_ James.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Oh, come on! I’m not an idiot. It’s always been about you and James; Peter and I are just the extra.”

“That’s not true! That’s not fucking true!” Sirius looked scared; he looked on the verge of tears. He gulped and tried to catch his breath. “Remus—you must know by now.”

Remus stepped back. “Know what?”

Sirius closed the space between them. “What I did earlier—it wasn’t new.”

“It was pretty new to me.”

“Please don’t hate me.”

“God.” Remus shook his head. “You are such an idiot.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I just saw you with Snivellus and I—I didn’t think.”

Remus took a deep breath. “Why did you do it?”

“I don’t know.” Sirius laughed shakily; he wouldn’t look at Remus. 

“But you just said it wasn’t new.”

“I’m mad, okay? You should ignore me. We don’t have to ever talk about it.”

“I don’t want to ignore you.” Remus’ heart was beating so fast. 

Sirius looked at him. “What do you mean?”

 _Just say it._ “I mean . . . I didn’t hate what you did.”

“You didn’t hate it?” Sirius had become very still. 

Remus was blushing. He felt lightheaded. “I liked it.”

“What?”

“I liked when you kissed me.”

“But—why?”

“Fuck off! I’m not saying it!”

Sirius grabbed his shoulders. He was trembling. “Tell me.”

Remus was trapped; he was suffocating. He wanted to wrap himself around Sirius and never let go. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I fancy you. I always have.”

“Merlin,” Sirius said, and he kissed Remus. Sirius was shaking so hard their teeth knocked together. He pulled away. “Sometimes I thought you felt the same but then you’d turn cold or run away. I thought maybe I was just freaking you out.”

“No, never,” Remus whispered. His hands roamed over Sirius’ shoulders, his arms, his chest. Could he really touch Sirius now?

He kissed Sirius, really kissed him, and Sirius made a noise in his throat. Encouraged, Remus rested his hand on the back of Sirius’ neck; it gave him leverage to control the kiss. He angled his head and brushed his tongue against Sirius’ lips. Sirius clutched at his shoulders but didn’t open his mouth. Remus kissed him and kissed him; he couldn’t wait any longer. He reached down and ran his hand over Sirius’ cock. He gasped. _Sirius was hard._

Sirius convulsed. He broke the kiss to tip his head back. Remus opened his palm to his cock, rubbing.

“God, Remus,” Sirius whispered. 

“Does that feel good?” Remus asked.

_“Yes.”_

Remus tried to undo his trousers. Sirius grabbed his hand.

“No, please. Not yet.”

“Okay, but can I—I just—” Remus wanted to feel his bare skin. Somehow he got his hand under Sirius’ shirt; his stomach was warm, trembling. He licked and sucked Sirius’ neck; Sirius pulled away. 

“So much sensation,” Sirius gasped.

“Yeah.” Remus was burning up. This might be the only chance he had to touch Sirius. He tried to put his hands on Sirius again, but Sirius held him off.

“Let’s slow down.”

“I’ve made a fool of myself,” Remus said, trying to laugh. 

Of course Sirius was stopping him. He was just playing; he didn’t really want Remus.

Sirius covered his face. “I’m the one mucking it up. I think I’m panicking.”

“I won’t touch you again.”

“No!” Sirius grabbed his shoulders; his expression was pleading. “Please just understand. Don’t make me say it.”

“I do understand! Nothing has to change because of this.”

“Stop talking.” Sirius pulled him into a hug and buried his face in Remus’ shoulder. He whispered: “You terrify me.”

Remus pressed his nose to Sirius’ hair. God, he smelled amazing. “I’m sorry.”

“I want you,” Sirius said.

Remus shivered. “Are you sure?”

Sirius kissed his check. “Be patient with me.”

“I’ve done something wrong. You can be honest with me.”

“I am being honest. There’s a problem with me, not you.”

Remus framed his face. He caressed his cheeks with his thumbs. He knew he was being a bit girly, but it was what he fucking wanted. “I think you’re perfect.”

“You have no idea.” Sirius shook his head. “Remus—God.”

“What do we do now?”

“We go downstairs and join our mates.”

Remus gulped. “Do we not say anything?”

“James already knows.”

“He knows?” Remus gaped.

“But the shock might kill poor Wormtail.”

“So we don’t say anything.”

“Not yet.” Sirius searched his face. “Is that all right?”

“Yeah . . . I think I prefer that. For now.”

Sirius tucked his shirt back into his trousers. They made it to the staircase before Remus whispered, “Wait. Just one more kiss.”

“Okay.” Sirius grinned.

Remus brushed his lips against Sirius’, then stepped back. “See. I can be patient.”

Down in the common room, James looked up from the game of chess he was playing with Peter. “How’s the new couple?” he announced loudly.

“James— _what the fuck?_ ” Sirius hissed.

“Did you just snog?” Peter asked them.

“Umm . . . yeah,” Sirius said, glancing at Remus. Peter looked impressed.

“Lucky,” James sighed. “Evans still won’t give me the time of day.”

“We know,” Remus said.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Yeah, maybe it’s because you’re an outing prat.”

“Calm down! Nobody else heard.” James sat back down to his game. Remus and Sirius lowered to the floor to watch. Every now and then, Sirius rubbed his little finger along a hidden part of Remus’ thigh. Remus shivered. He couldn’t believe this was reality.

*

The final week of the Potions project was frustrating. Remus rarely saw Snape, but he knew he had a target on his back. The first incident happened when Remus was on his way to Charms; someone came up behind him and shoved him so hard he toppled forward. He looked around, bewildered. No one was near him. The following morning, Remus opened his daily copy of the _Prophet_ and burning green sludge spilled all over his hands. He had to visit the hospital wing for the cure. He was afraid. Snape had promised Dumbledore that he’d keep Remus’ condition a secret, but obviously Remus had crossed some sort of line. Snape could ruin his life if he wanted.

Remus looked for Snape. He waited by their potions but Snape never showed. He wandered the dungeons; he checked every aisle in the library. He took out their handy map and tried spotting his dot. Snape was nowhere to be found. Avery, Mulciber, and a few other Slytherins were missing too. He put away the map, refusing to think about where they’d gone. 

He went up to his bed and found Sirius under the duvet. “Waiting for me?” Remus asked. It was easy to push Snape from his mind when Sirius was _in his bed_.

“Yeah,” Sirius whispered. “I told Prongs and Wormtail to get lost.”

“How thoughtful of you.” Remus pulled off his robes and kicked away his shoes. He slipped in next to Sirius. “God, you’ve made my sheets all warm.”

“Remus,” Sirius said, and kissed him. Their lips moved together slowly; Remus twisted his hands in Sirius’ shirt, letting him set the pace. “I’ve wanted to do that all day.”

“It kills me to sit next to you in class and not be able to touch you.”

Sirius smirked. “Good.” He kissed down to Remus’ neck and sucked. Remus gasped and arched up. Sirius laughed and sucked harder. “I want to ask you something.”

Remus pulled back to look at him. He still couldn’t believe he was in bed with _Sirius Black_. He knew about ten girls who’d die from jealousy. He touched Sirius’ wet lips, his high cheekbones. “You can ask me anything.”

“It’s selfish of me.” Sirius hesitated; he was blushing. “I want to . . . see you. I want to touch you . . . but I don’t want you to see or touch me.”

Remus frowned. It took him a moment to understand. “Are you saying you want me to take off my clothes?”

“Yeah.” Sirius wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable. I just wanted to ask.”

Gulping, he whispered, “I’ve got scars.”

“I know. I’ve seen them.”

Remus shook his head. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“They won’t scare me.” Sirius kissed his neck again. “You’re beautiful.”

“You’re the beautiful one.” Remus paused, his heart racing. “Okay, I’ll do it.” He began unbuttoning his shirt but Sirius stopped him.

“Let me.” Sirius kissed his knuckles. “Your poor hands. I hope Pomfrey was able to help you.”

“Yeah, I’m fine now.” Remus tried to quiet his breath. Sod his hands. He could be bleeding out and still not want to end this moment.

Sirius got his shirt unbuttoned, then slipped it from his shoulders. Remus was wearing a vest top, and it took some time for them to get it over his head. When his chest was bare, he laid back and tried not to cross his arms. Sirius’ eyes were dark. He dragged his hand along Remus’ stomach, then moved up to his nipples. He didn’t touch them, just stared. Remus was restless; he quickly unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down to his knees. If they were going to do this, then they needed to just _do it_. He couldn’t handle the wait.

Sirius stared. Remus was hard. Of course he was hard; but his heart was thumping so fast he could barely feel it. With a single finger, Sirius traced the bulge in Remus’ pants. Okay, now he could feel it. He arched up, needing more. He wanted to say something but he knew he’d stutter. 

“Can I take off your pants?” Sirius whispered. Remus nodded. Gently, Sirius eased his pants down, revealing his erection. Remus couldn’t look. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away. _Breathe_ , he told himself.

Sirius didn’t say anything, but Remus heard his panting. He touched Remus’ thigh and Remus jerked. Sirius snatched his hand away. “Sorry.”

“No—don’t stop,” Remus said.

Sirius trailed his fingers along his cock; Remus gasped and thrust up. “I can’t believe this is happening,” Sirius said.

“Put your hand around me; stroke me,” Remus said, desperate.

There was brief hesitation. Then Sirius wrapped his hand around his cock; he stroked Remus slowly. Remus bit down hard on his lip.

“Is this all right?”

“It’s a bit dry,” Remus said.

“Oh.” Sirius took his hand away. He reached for his wand. “I know a spell.”

Remus huffed a laugh. “We all know that spell.”

Sirius laughed too. He pointed his wand at his cupped hand and muttered the incantation. His hand filled with lube. “Look at me,” he whispered. 

Taking a deep breath, Remus looked at him. Sirius leaned over him, his expression both worried and excited. He let some of the lube drip from his palm to Remus’ cock; he stroked Remus, slowly, then picking up speed. Remus’ mouth fell open; he couldn’t look away from Sirius’ glistening fist and the reddened head of his own cock. He was going to explode; he was going to _die_.

“Kiss me,” Remus said, throwing an arm over Sirius’ shoulders. Sirius kissed him, their lips struggling to synch up. Sirius twisted his wrist; he dragged his thumb over the tip. Remus panted into his mouth.

“You’re so bloody hard in my hand,” Sirius whispered, and that did it: Remus came without warning; he jerked back, crying out, splattering the space between them. 

“Fuck!” He was mortified and still riding out his orgasm. He was sure Sirius would _laugh_ at him.

Sirius kissed his cheek, then the center of his chest. He raised his hand and stared at the come webbing his fingers. 

“Here—I’ll clean you up,” Remus said, his face burning. 

Sirius sucked a finger into his mouth, his eyes falling shut. He moaned softly. 

“Christ—I can’t believe—” Remus kissed him desperately, tasting himself.

“That was brilliant,” Sirius said. “I promise next time I’ll let you see me.”

“You don’t have to promise me anything,” Remus said, but he was already thinking about _next time_. “We should clean up and let our mates back in.”

“Sod them,” Sirius said, stretching, his hair ruffled. Remus laughed.

Later that night, he sent Snape a note. _Stop avoiding me. I need to talk to you. Meet me TOMORROW before breakfast. I’ll be with the potions._ He sent the note off, not really expecting Snape to show up. It was worth a try.

*

Remus woke up late the next morning. He aimed some cleaning spells at himself, carded his fingers through his hair, and threw on his school robes. He dashed to the dungeons. He arrived at their temporary lab and found Snape waiting for him.

“What’s the emergency?” Snape asked, his expression vicious.

It took a moment for Remus to catch his breath. He hadn’t expected to see Snape, but now he had to make the most of the opportunity. 

“Please don’t tell anyone about my . . . condition.”

Snape’s face darkened further. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you have a grudge! I know it was you who shoved me and put that sludge in my newspaper.”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “You’re lying.”

Snape threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, Lupin. What a child you are. I don’t have _time_ to plan such immature pranks.”

“I know it was you!”

Snape moved closer. He stared at Remus’ neck. “That’s quite the love bite. You’ll want to cover that up or people might want to know which _girl_ gave it to you.”

“I don’t have anything to hide,” Remus said, trying to sound casual.

“Who’s the liar now?” Snape shook his head, a little sarcastic smile curving his lips. “Honestly, I don’t care enough to share your secrets. The world is quickly changing, and I’m set to be one of the conquerors.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t need to explain. You already know.” Snape touched Remus’ hand with his wand. Remus yanked back, which made Snape laugh. “I feel sorry for you. You think everything’s going to turn out fine if you stand with Potter and Black, but they will desert you once they see the darkness inside you.”

Remus frowned. “They already know about my lycanthropy.”

“There’ll come a time when we are winning, when Dumbledore’s lot is desperate and in need of a scapegoat, and they will turn on you. It’s inevitable.”

“You’re talking nonsense.”

Snape licked his lips. He reached out like he wanted to touch Remus, but then dropped his hand. “We have a lot in common.”

“Impossible. I wash my hair.”

“Laugh all you want now. One day you’ll know I’m right. I just hope it’s not too late.”

“We have nothing in common. I’m not a bigot. I don’t want people murdered.”

Snape cocked his head. “What about Fenrir Greyback?”

Remus flinched at the name. “I want him in Azkaban.”

“Ha! You Gryffindors. Always confusing weakness with morality. You’re a _coward_ , Lupin.”

“I rather be a coward than a murderer.” He was tired of Snape’s vague references. “You’ve been gone for a few days. Did you murder Muggles? Did you sneak up on unsuspecting Ministry officials and promise to kill their families if they didn’t join your side?”

“Perhaps.” Snape smirked.

“You disgust me. I rather be dead than have that on my conscience.”

“I read somewhere that over seventy-five percent of werewolves will accidently kill someone on a full moon. Who do you think will be your first kill?”

Remus punched him. Snape stumbled back, holding his face; his gaze darted to the potions.

“Lily is a thousand times better off without you in her life.”

Snape attacked him with his bare hands. He clawed at Remus’ face; he tried to knee him in the groin. Remus punched him in the stomach; he got his hands around Snape’s neck and _squeezed_. Snape tried to kick at him. They toppled to the hard floor.

“Strangle me, you coward! I dare you!” Snape choked.

Remus shook him. “After tomorrow, I don’t want to ever speak to you again. I don’t want you to even look at me!”

“Like I’d ever want to be associated with a poof!”

Remus released him and stood. He thought he knew how that sentence was going to end, but he was wrong. He couldn’t stand that Snape sensed his sexuality. It was laughable that Snape thought he had insight into Remus, but calling him an offensive term took it to a whole new level. 

“Tomorrow, we’ll turn in our potion and receive top marks,” Remus said. “After that, if you even look at me, I’ll Hex your bollocks off.”

Snape laughed hoarsely. He was still on the floor; his neck was all red from Remus’ squeezing. “When the war is over and all your friends are dead, you will be on your hands and knees for me.”

Remus rolled his eyes and left.

*

Slughorn loved a show. The next morning, he spent the entire lesson moving from potion to potion, testing the consistency and color, but also looking for some mysterious extra component. Remus’ feet hurt. He was tired of standing next to their potion, waiting for Slughorn to get over himself. Snape was motionless next to him.

“I must say this is a hard decision,” Slughorn said. He glanced from Snape to Lily; he turned to Lily. “Congratulations, my girl. Your potion is the best out of the bunch. Please tell the class how you did it!”

“We used Ashwinder Eggs, Professor,” she said, beaming. Sirius winked at Remus. 

Snape stormed off. Avery and Mulciber followed him. Only a few students looked surprised. Slughorn watched them leave and didn’t say anything.

When class was dismissed, Remus approached Sirius and Lily in the corridor. “I can’t believe you beat me,” he said. “We used those eggs too!”

Lily flipped her hair. “Silly boys. Perhaps one day you’ll accept I’m the best.” Remus laughed fondly.

“James already thinks you’re the best,” Sirius said.

“I told you not to talk to me about him.”

Sirius shrugged. “You said not to bring him up while we were brewing. We’re not brewing anymore.”

“I’m walking away now,” she said over her shoulder. 

Sirius turned to Remus. He lowered his voice. “What’s my prize for winning?”

“What do you want?” Remus’ stomach fluttered. 

“You starkers in my bed tonight.”

“We’ll need to bribe our friends.”

Sighing, Sirius said, “Do you think chocolate will do it?”

“I don’t know.”

They reunited with Peter to walk to lunch. 

“What will it take for you to avoid the dormitory tonight?” Sirius asked.

Peter groaned. “Why can’t you wank each other in a cupboard or something?”

“Christ, Peter,” Remus said, choking back laughter.

“I’ll do your Potions homework,” Sirius said. “Slughorn just said my potion was the best, so . . .”

“Deal.” Peter thought for a moment. “I also want some of your Cockroach Clusters.”

“Fine,” Sirius said. He touched Remus’ side and whispered, “Can’t wait for tonight.” Remus shivered.

*

The day moved at a snail’s pace. Remus could barely sit still in his remaining classes. He was going to finally see Sirius without his clothes. Oh, God.

Rumors about Snape, Avery, and Mulciber storming from Potions made its rounds. People wondered if they would leave school entirely. Remus couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn’t care about anything outside his date in the dormitory.

At dinner, Remus and Sirius didn’t look at each other. James smirked. Peter covered his mouth to muffle a laugh. When they stood to leave, James made quiet kissing noises. He wiggled his fingers at them. “Have fun!”

With most students still eating, the common room was quiet and nearly empty. Their dormitory was even quieter.

They sat on Remus’ bed. He kissed Sirius softly and let him control the pace of everything. He’d learned from last time.

“Help me undress,” Sirius said.

They got Sirius’ clothes off. He was beautiful, utterly perfect. He was long and pale, with not a scar in sight. Remus was almost speechless.

“I want you to put your fingers in me,” Sirius whispered.

“What?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it.”

 _“What?”_ Remus blinked at him. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m sure.” Sirius smiled a little.

“I don’t—I’ve never—” Remus took a trembling breath.

Sirius turned his face away. “I’ve already cast some spells in preparation.”

“What spells? How do you know about these spells?”

“I was curious. Last summer, James helped me find some books.”

“James! I can’t believe you told him before me. No, scratch that, it makes sense that you did, but it’s still stupid.”

“It was safe to tell him. It wasn’t safe to tell you.”

Remus played with his nipples. Sirius closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “Why wasn’t it safe to tell me?”

“Because I fancy you,” Sirius gasped. “You prat.”

Remus kissed his shoulder, smiling against his skin. “I just wanted to hear you say it again.”

Sirius kissed him. He whispered, “I fancy you.” He guided Remus’ hand between his thighs to his hole. “I fancy you so much that I want your fingers in me.”

Remus had to close his eyes. He was touching Sirius’ _arsehole_. It was warm, a little _wet_ ; it twitched against his finger.

“Push it inside me,” Sirius said, squirming. “I promise I can take it.”

He caressed Sirius some more, trying to gather the courage; then he pressed forward and the flesh actually gave way. “Christ,” Remus said. “You already got lube inside you.”

“Yeah.” Sirius twisted on his finger. “I can take more.”

Remus moved his finger in and out; he could barely focus. Sirius was so fucking warm and tight. “Do you finger yourself a lot?”

“Define a lot,” Sirius said, which made Remus moan. He couldn’t handle it: Sirius stuck his fingers in his own arse. Remus added a second finger, maybe a little too quickly, because Sirius flinched.

“All right?” he whispered.

Sirius nodded. “Use more lube.”

Remus gently withdrew and whispered the spell. When he thrust back in, Sirius was incredibly slick. Remus fucked him quickly, gaining confidence; Sirius shuddered and clutched at his shoulders.

“More,” Sirius said.

Nodding, Remus added a third finger. He couldn’t look away. Sirius was taking his fingers; he couldn’t believe his little hole was able to stretch that much.

God, oh God. He wanted to fuck Sirius. He wanted to squeeze his cock into his little hole; he wanted to feel Sirius’ body clutch him, pull him deeper, as he took his pleasure.

“I want—” Remus gulped.

“Do it.” Sirius was panting, his face pink. “I want to feel you inside me.”

“Are you sure?” Remus asked, dreading the answer. He’d never wanted anything more in his life.

“Moony,” Sirius whispered, and spread his thighs wider. “Shag me.”

Remus pulled his fingers out. He undressed, trembling. He conjured up more lube and smeared his cock. His erection had flagged a bit as he fingered Sirius, but now he was fully, achingly hard. Sirius was almost flaccid. Remus tried to stroke him but Sirius pulled his hand away.

“No, too much sensation.”

“Okay,” Remus breathed. He pushed Sirius’ thighs even further apart. He got into position. “Ready?”

Sirius’ chest beat up and down. “I think so.”

Remus thrust inside; it was both harder and easier than what he’d imagined. Sirius was alarmingly tight; this wasn’t safe; he had to be hurting Sirius. Remus tried to ease in more but there was too much lube; he thrust and popped through Sirius’ ring of muscle.

“Fuck!” Sirius arched up, his hands clawing at Remus’ arms.

Remus panted against Sirius’ neck.

“Fuck, this hurts,” Sirius said, trembling. “Fuck, fuck.”

Remus tried pulling out, but Sirius cried out. Remus was going to come. Sirius shifted beneath him, his arse twitching and bearing down. He was going to come and hurt Sirius even more.

“Sirius,” he whined.

“Give me a minute,” Sirius said, and kissed him. They panted into each other’s mouths.

Without thinking about it, Remus moved his hips. Sirius pressed his face to the bedding, his expression tense. He pulled back and thrust back in; his thighs trembled from the effort. He couldn’t believe he was _inside_ Sirius Black; he was fucking one of his closest friends, the boy he’d fantasized about _for years_. He was fucking the arse of the fittest boy in school.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Sirius said. He raised his legs and urged Remus deeper.

Remus thrust in earnest, their flesh smacking together. Sirius’ arse opened up to him, allowing him to move harder, faster. Christ. Sirius was perfect; he was pure blooded and rich; he was tall and elegant and had no blemishes. And he’d let Remus fuck him. He’d let a werewolf inside his body. He gasped and moaned as a poor, half-blood _monster_ defiled him. Remus came hard, suddenly, his whole body arching into it. He thought: _Who’s the conqueror now?_

When Remus calmed down, he pulled out gently and laid beside Sirius. “Are you in pain?” he asked.

Sirius tried to hide a wince. “Yeah, but I think it’s going to be okay.” His cock was only a little harder from when they began. Remus gathered some lube from his thighs and stroked him. Sirius hissed and tried to jerk away. He covered Remus’ fist with his own.

“Am I not doing it right?” Remus asked.

“I just want to control it.” He moved their fists up and down his cock; his mouth fell open. When he saw Remus gazing at him, he pulled a pillow over his face. “I don’t think I can come with you looking at me.”

“Okay,” Remus said. He watched Sirius’ cock move through their fingers, red, glistening, so very desperate. With his other hand, he reached down to feel Sirius’ used hole. Sirius moaned loudly. Emboldened, Remus pressed a finger inside, stroking, caressing.

“Fuck, fuck—” Sirius cried into the pillow covering his face; he was coming, his cock twitching and spilling over their hands.

Remus eased his finger out and cleaned his hands. He took the pillow away from Sirius’ face. Sirius stared at him, dazed, breathing heavily.

“Was it good?” Remus asked, smiling widely.

It took a moment for Sirius to answer. “Yeah,” he panted. He pulled Remus into a hug; Remus rested his head on his shoulder and sighed deeply. They didn’t talk for a while.

“We wasted so much time,” Sirius said.

“You should have just told me.” Remus drew shapes on his chest. “I was the first person James told about fancying Lily. Not that it was a big secret or anything. Even Peter has confided in me. But you . . . you rarely trust me with secrets.”

“You don’t understand how I was raised. It’s hard for me to let people in.”

“You’ve let James in.”

“James is like a brother to me.”

Remus raised his head to look at Sirius. “Aren’t I like a brother to you, too?”

“Merlin, I hope not!”

“You know what I mean. I want you to trust me like you trust James.”

“I do.” Sirius looked away.

Sighing, Remus laid back down. “I can’t believe we go to school with Death Eaters.”

“Wow, this is great bedroom talk.”

“I know you’ve been thinking about it!”

“I don’t want to think about it. Not here. Not with you.”

Remus ran his hand over Sirius’ smooth, unscarred chest. “I want you to know that, whatever happens, I will always have your back.”

“Stop talking like that.”

There was banging on the door. “Open up!” James yelled. “Evans challenged me to a game of chess and I need my lucky underpants!”

“No luck will save you!” Sirius yelled back. “Face your fate like a man!”

James made an angry noise and stormed off. Laughing, Remus said, “We could’ve let him in.”

“No way. I’ve already sacrificed too much for him.” Sirius kissed Remus.


	2. Part Two

* * *

When Remus’ world came apart, he went home to live with his mum. His dad had been dead for two years, and she needed the company. Remus needed to get away from the magical world.

The war had torn him open; it felt like his guts fell out, his blood pooling at his feet. _Walk carefully_ , he thought.

He didn’t cry or collapse. He didn’t vow revenge. He kissed his mum on the cheek, told her how much he’d missed her, and went to bed. 

He slept for a long time. Day after day. He slept so much he began to ache, his head full of cotton. In his dreams, Sirius wasn’t in Azkaban. He wasn’t a murderer. 

Before the end of the war, Remus had shared a flat with Sirius. While it’d been small, it was located in Diagon Alley, which meant the rent was astronomical. Sirius’ inheritance had paid for it. His mum had croaked before she could erase him from the will. 

Remus had been happy in the flat. Tremendously happy. Even though it was wartime. Even though his classmates were dying. He had Sirius, and that was all that had mattered. 

Surprisingly, Remus didn’t dream about this flat. He dreamed of Hogwarts. He prowled the empty corridors, calling out for Sirius. Sometimes he stumbled on James and Lily. “Please help us,” they’d say, their hands pawing at their slit throats. “He’s coming for us.”

“Who?” Remus yelled, even though he already knew.

In other dreams, he was in the Gryffindor common room, the fireplace crackling merrily. Every chair was empty except for one. “Sirius?” he’d ask, stepping closer. When he made it around the chair, he found a giant serpent hissing, ready to attack. “I trusted you,” he said, his emotions dulled. “I can’t believe you did it.” He usually woke up crying.

The sex dreams were the most frequent. He shagged men who said they were Sirius but didn’t really look like him. When he found himself in bed with the real Sirius, he could never see him fully, instead focusing on one part of his body as they shagged. _Padfoot_ , he’d whisper, touching a slim thigh, a perky arse. Sirius was always elusive; nothing but body parts. _Stay with me_ , he’d say before waking up alone, his cock throbbing. The despair stole his breath.

*

After he finished sleeping, he helped his mum around the house. He fixed window latches and replaced tiles on the floor. He dusted every surface and moved the furniture to vacuum beneath beds and armoires. His mum called him her caretaker and made him cold chicken sandwiches.

He played Jim Reeves records, his mum’s favorite. The cowboy crooning quieted his mind as he worked. He found himself humming to one song in particular:

_Yeah I'm gonna change everything that holds a memory of you, oh yeah_  
_Take the carpet off the floor throw it out the door it's filled with tears_  
_Everything I find that bring you to my mind must disappear_  
_Every night I dream I'll dream of someone new_

Exhaustion settled over him like a blanket, and he wasted afternoons in his dad’s study. His dad had been a book lover; each wall was lined with naughty pulps, serious histories. Remus didn’t have the will to read. He didn’t have the will to do anything he used to consider fun.

He sat in his dad’s chair and watched the sun disappear from the sky. What would he do the next full moon? He couldn’t be anywhere close.

He wondered how his old pack was getting on since the end of the war. He’d spent many months in negotiations with them. _Albus Dumbledore cares about you. He can protect you._ They’d laughed at him. He wanted to return to their lonely forest and ask them what they thought about Dumbledore now. _I told you we were going to win._

He flinched. Sirius had said the same thing to him. They’d been curled up together under the duvet, Sirius’ breath warm on his cheek, their limbs intertwined. _Don’t worry_ , he’d said, kissing Remus. _We’re going to win no matter what._ Had he been a traitor then? When he said “we,” did he mean only him? Remus shuddered. Maybe even then he was plotting James and Lily’s demise.

“Tell me why,” Remus said to empty air. That was all he wanted to know. Why did Sirius do it?

 _It was because he was jealous_ , his mind supplied. _You knew you were always second best. He was tired of James never having enough time for him. James had betrayed him, and he wanted revenge._

Remus shook his head. No, Sirius was in love with him and nobody else. Sirius was glad that James was happy. He was glad that James had finally got his dream girl.

_What about . . ._

“No,” Remus said, and stood. He staggered from the study. He needed fresh air.

*

He’d grown up mildy poor, but they had a car and enough money to put food on the table. They only got an indoor toilet after he left for Hogwarts.

His mum was working class, so she never minded the hardship. His dad, on the other hand, fought off embarrassment everyday of his life. Disappointment and guilt had killed him. After Remus had been attacked, his father struggled to love anything. There’d been affairs, mostly involving his mum. Remus didn’t hold it against her; some part of him was happy for her. 

“Are your friends -?” his mum asked.

“Yes,” he said, pushing his stew around with a spoon. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Of course,” she said.

They watched _The Two Ronnies_ in silence. It was a comedy, and the audience laughter made him feel so lonely. He watched his mum instead, the telly shadows playing against her tired face. She looked at him and smiled. 

“Love you,” she said, touching his hand.

His response caught in his throat. He nodded. 

His mum tried to understand without asking questions. They took long walks together, the air crisp, the trees skeletal. She understood mourning. 

They stopped to inspect an icy pond. His mum turned to him and pulled up the collar on his coat. She ran her thumbs over his scarred cheeks. “My handsome son,” she said, grinning.

“Liar,” he laughed.

“I’ll make you some biscuits. Would you like that?”

“You don’t have to do that.” He knew money was tight and the Muggles were still trying to get over an economic crisis. 

“I’m going to do it,” she said, taking his hand. “Chocolate ones.”

“You spoil me.”

“Only the best for my handsome son.”

They continued their walk.

*

As the full moon drew near, Remus packed up his few belongings and told his mum it was time for him to leave.

“Okay,” she said, but her mouth twisted with what she didn’t say: _I don’t care if you stay. I’ll lock myself up; I’ll barricade the house. The cellar isn’t too cold for dogs._ They both knew he couldn’t take the risk.

He went back to the pack’s forest. He couldn’t find them. Disappointed, he set up a little tent and made himself a fire. The ground was how he imagined a pond’s bottom: waterlogged, putrefied, with the leaves fish stole from the surface. When he awoke, his fire long gone, he was too cold and wet to move. He spread his fingers into the mud and rolled his eyes up. This was what it felt like to be a corpse under water. An insect squirmed on his neck, and he thought: _Perfect. The fish are nibbling._

The forest was as rural as it got in the U.K., which meant there was still a chance for the werewolf to come upon some unlucky Muggle. “There’s nowhere else to go,” he said, sitting up. He should go to the desert. Nothing but sand for miles. The werewolf would fret; it’d run in circles, looking for its friends; it’d end up howling, curled up in a ball, terrified. _Serves the bastard right._

That night, as he waited for the moon, he put all his effort into planning his next step. He’d learned it was good to focus his mind right before the transformation; it’d be so damn easy just to let go. 

He needed money and a place to stay. He needed to occupy his time. He needed a bloke to shag. A ginger. Short. Foreign. Someone who reminded him of no one.

He should go back to London. Work as a Muggle. He could wash dishes or clean toilets. He’d have to resist the urge to use magic. The Ministry took secrecy personally. The last thing he needed was some big shot snooping into his life. _Oh, how did I get all these scars? Ask Albus Dumbledore._ He choked on a laugh. God, it was close. His head swam. _London, London_ , he thought, then panicked. No, not London! Stay in this forest! Do you hear me, wolf?

The wolf didn’t answer.

*

The next morning, he woke up with feathers in his mouth. He pulled each one from his tongue, tasting copper. His fingernails were lined with blood.

There was only so much a bloke could take. He beat his fists and gnashed his teeth. He sobbed. He wanted to jump up; he wanted to destroy things. But he was in too much pain. “I’m nothing! I’m nothing!” he screamed, and it felt like a wish. 

Sirius should’ve killed him too.

*

London was dreary and loud. It felt like an endless maze, like he was a pawn on a board. For the first week, he slept in parks under Disillusionment and warming charms. He stole food from Muggle restaurants, never targeting the same one twice. Cooks shouldn’t get into trouble for one missing hamburger, one vanishing pie.

He found temporary work as a caretaker in an office building. He worked alongside Pakistanis and Kenyan women; they stared openly at his scars and stayed away from him during breaks. He spent his lunches on the roof, smoking. The sky was hazy and yellow; remnants of British curry.

He paid for a room daily, then weekly. He avoided magical places. Alcohol became a problem. There were just so many pubs, their darkness washing over him like a wave. He was forgotten. He drank until closing time, nodding off between sips, crying silently. He thought: _Maybe the next one will do the trick_.

Months passed. He returned to the forest for full moons. He worked hard and spent most of his extra money on booze. He wandered the streets with his head down; he learned London by following the cracks in the pavement. He made friends with the gum spots. 

He ventured to West Hampstead to be with other gay men. There were discos and pubs tucked away in the bowels of buildings. The throbbing music of the discos intimidated him, so he poked around in a few pubs before he caught the attention of some poor soul. The man was older and sweated ale; he wore an oversized suit that said _Middling Knob._ Remus sucked the man’s cock, smelling onions the whole time. It was the first sexual experience he had with someone who wasn’t Sirius.

Remus never thought he’d run into someone he knew. He thought he was invisible to the magical world, swallowed up by the Muggle crowds. He should’ve know he wasn’t the only wizard trying to forget the war.

The first encounter happened in a small shop that sold cigarettes and Buttersnaps. He was examining the sweets when he looked up and Kingsley stood in front of him.

“Hello,” Kingsley said.

“Oh.”

Kingsley frowned. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t startle me.” Remus pawed at his hair. He hadn’t bothered to comb it. “I was just buying a sweet.”

Kingsley looked him over. “What are you doing these days?”

Remus dropped his eyes. He felt his cheeks warm, and hated it. “Oh.” He laughed. “It’s quite funny, you know.”

“Are you living with Muggles?”

“Yeah.” Remus wanted to defend himself.

“I see.” 

They walked to the till; Kingsley bought some crisps. When they left the shop, they stopped on the kerb, a stream of Muggles scurrying past.

“I didn’t know you ate Muggle food,” Remus said.

Kingsley grinned. “I didn’t know you lived with them.” He paused, looking unsure. “How are you holding up?”

“Oh, fine,” Remus said, laughing again. 

Kingsley stared. “Do you want my coordinates? In case you want to have a chat?”

“Okay.” He hoped his expression didn’t betray him.

Kingsley riffled through crumpled parchment from his pocket. “Here, I hope you can read it,” he said, handing over his coordinates.

“Ta,” Remus said, wanting this conversation to end. He rocked back on his heels. “I have work in a few minutes.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Kingsley stepped back. “I didn’t mean to hold you up.”

Remus did his best to smile. “It wasn’t a bother. It was good to see you.” He turned, but Kingsley grabbed his shoulder.

“You’ll get through this,” Kingsley said softly. “We’re all struggling.”

Remus pulled away. “Yes. Of course.” He hurried down the street.

The rest of his day was shit. He didn’t have work, but he wished he did. Seeing Kingsley made him fret. He paced his small room, the floorboards creaking. The sun pushed against the clouds, his room heating up when there was sunshine, then going cold when there wasn’t. He wanted a drink. He wanted to bend a man over and force his way inside. 

He dropped into his single chair and covered his face. God, he was sick of crying. He didn’t want to feel this way anymore. 

Sod Kingsley. Sod the lot of them. He didn’t want to see them. He didn’t want to see anybody. 

He laid down on his bed. He’d sleep until it was time for the pub.

*

Remus liked London at night. The city made him feel like a shadow, like something people didn’t inspect too closely.

The air was cool and damp; he pulled his frayed jacket closer and shoved his hands into his pockets. He wanted a cigarette, but he never liked smoking while on the move. Cigarettes were expensive, and he wanted to relish every one.

The walk to West Hampstead took the better part of an hour, but he liked the repetition of taking the same streets, turning the same corners. Sometimes he even spotted the same pedestrians. He did his best to avoid eye contact.

His favorite pub was called _Tallulah’s_. Bigger than the others, it had more corners where he could hide, and the lamps were crusted over with dust and grim. The pints were cheap, but he didn’t trust the chips they tried to force onto patrons.

When he entered the pub, his eyes landed on a man at the bar. His brain pinged with recognition, but he still didn’t make the connection. There was no way someone from his other life was here.

He made it all the way to his usual table before someone called out, “Lupin.”

He turned, and blinked. Snape stood in front of him. They stared at one another.

“What are you doing here?” Remus asked.

“I can be anywhere I want.”

“Yes, but this place is for poofs.”

Snape shifted uncomfortably. “I know.”

Remus continued to stare. Snape looked a good ten years older. His face was thinner, his nose more prominent. His gaze was hollow. 

“I can’t believe you’re still alive,” Remus said.

Snape looked away. “A lot of people aren’t.”

“How are you not in Azkaban?”

“I have my reasons,” Snape said stiffly. “Did you know I’m teaching at Hogwarts now?”

“Christ,” Remus said. “I can’t believe Dumbledore trusts you enough to be around children.”

Snape stood taller. “What exactly does that mean?”

“You’re a fucking Death Eater!” Remus said, suddenly enraged. “Why not hire me too if he’s just going to let anyone into that castle?”

“Are you jealous of my position? Because, believe me, it’s nothing to envy.”

“Of course I’m jealous! I’m - I’m -” _scrubbing toilets_.

“Let me buy you a drink,” Snape said.

“But - why?” Just a few months ago they’d been mortal enemies. A few months ago, Snape would’ve killed Remus on the spot.

Snape shrugged. “I was just offering. It means nothing to me.”

“Right,” he said, snorting. He stepped a little closer. “Weren’t you supposed to win the war? According to you, I should be groveling at your feet by now.”

“I did win,” Snape said, smiling gravely. 

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“You don’t have to believe it.”

“You must care that Lily’s dead.”

A tremor passed through Snape. “Many people are mourning,” he said softly.

“She died because your lot.” He wanted to fight Snape.

Snape was expressionless. “I know.”

Remus deflated. He rubbed at his face. “I never wanted to see you again.”

“You can leave. There’s other pubs.”

“But this is _my_ pub. Aren’t there places in Scotland? What’s the chance that we run into each other, here, now, in this sort of place?”

“Coincidences happen,” Snape said.

Remus squinted at him. “Do you want something from me?”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Yeah, right.” Remus left the pub in a hurry. He wanted to chuck something at Snape’s head on his way out, but then thought better of it. 

Agitated, he went into a neighboring gay pub and ordered a few shots of whiskey. This pub was loud and crowded; he wasn’t particularly careful with the way he looked for someone to pull. He knew he came across as desperate, as someone too caned to be any good on his knees, but he didn’t care.

Later, as he sucked some pockmarked man in the toilet, he chanted in his head: _Sod Snape, sod Snape, sod Snape_.

*

A few weeks passed, and Remus couldn’t stop fixating on Snape. Why had he found success when Remus was struggling? He was the one who’d made the awful choices; Remus had fought on the side of the _good_ , so why did his life not reflect it?

Kingsley and Snape took something from him. The Muggles wouldn’t protect him. Magic still existed even if he didn’t see it outside his flat. Sirius was still locked up on some desilent island, his soul slowly being ripped from him.

Remus couldn’t sleep. His appetite vanished and he developed cravings. He drank so much that he lost his job. _Oh, well_ , he thought. He still had one last pay cheque coming to him.

He became reckless with the men he shagged. They were thieves and addicts; he sometimes felt pocket knives and tiny bags of Muggle drugs as they groped each other against a dirty wall. Sometimes he was so pissed he had to swallow back bile before he took the men into his mouth.

Then, one night, his luck turned on him. It was two in the morning, and he was attempting to walk home. He dragged his hand along a brick building, steadying himself, his eyelids drooping. His head fell forward; maybe he slept, standing upright, a bit of drool running down his chin.

He heard footsteps behind him, distantly, like his head was under water. He imagined he turned to look at the person, but no, he continued to doze. 

Suddenly, there were hands on him, shoving him against the wall. His nose cracked against the brick, warm liquid pouring into his mouth. He sputtered and tried to speak.

“Shut up,” the man said, poking his back with something sharp. “Feel that? You move or scream, and I’ll stick this in your guts.”

“Okay,” Remus whispered. He felt his heart pounding, but he was very calm. “Take whatever you want.”

The man stole his wallet and fished around his pockets for anything valuable. He even took Remus’ cigarettes. 

Remus tried to turn around to look at him, but the man punched him in the face. Remus fell awkwardly. Bright pain erupted in his wrist and shoulder. The man kicked him in the stomach, then in the face. Remus’ front teeth sliced through his tongue. 

“Stay down until I’m gone,” the man said, breathing harshly. Remus wanted to laugh; he couldn’t stand even if he wanted. 

When the man had disappeared around a corner, Remus, groaning and trembling, pushed himself onto his back. Blood collected behind his ears and wet his hairline. His nose throbbed and felt full of snot.

He struggled to breathe; he gulped blood, trying to get enough air into his lungs. His vision blurred; he was losing consciousness and choking. _Sirius_ , he thought as everything went dark.

*

Remus dreamed he was swimming. The waves crashed over his head, his body floating, then yanked down, as if seaweed curled around his limbs. At the horizon was a crumbling building; from this distance, it looked like a soggy overworn boot. He would reach the building if it was the last thing he did. Someone was waiting for him.

*

When he awoke, he found himself in a dark room with faded floral wallpaper. He groaned and shifted, which caused the bed to creak horribly. The room was so dark because someone had glued newspaper to the small window.

He touched his face. Somebody had cleaned up his nose. He wasn’t even in that much pain, which was remarkable. Whoever had brought him here had used magic to heal him.

He stumbled from bed. He needed the loo but he couldn’t find one on the level. He hobbled downstairs, then stopped.

Snape was marking essays on the small sofa. “Sleep well?” he asked without looking up.

“You healed me.” Remus couldn’t believe he was alone in a house with a Death Eater. He glanced around. This was probably where Snape had grown up.

“Was I supposed to let you choke on your own blood?”

“It’s what you would’ve done during the war.”

“Which part? Because the timeline really matters.”

Remus squinted. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“Nothing.” Snape stood and put away his marking. “Eat something. I’ll make breakfast.”

“I need the toilet.”

“It’s outside, through the kitchen door.” Snape ducked his head like he was embarrassed.

The house shared a patchy garden with other tenants. It’d poured recently, and the path to the toilet was muddy. This was a factory town.

When he was done, he stared at all the empty clotheslines and collapsing fences. The trees were spindly, bare, with limbs like gnarled fingers. The greasy smell of frying sausage greeted him back in the house.

“How many eggs do you want?”

Remus stared. “How d’you know how to cook? Don’t the elves do that for you at Hogwarts?”

Snape waved his spatula. “Look around you. How do you think I ate during the summer?”

“Didn’t you have your mum?”

“I’m making you two eggs.”

Remus found the coffee pot; in the cupboard above was coffee in a yellow and blue canister. His mum kept her sugar and flour in something similar. 

He opened the sad fridge. “There’s no milk.”

“No, but there’s sugar.” Snape floated their breakfast to the table, then Summoned the sugar. Remus poured them coffee.

“Thank you,” he said after a few bites of sausage.

Snape wiped his mouth with his thumb. He carefully sipped his coffee. “I want you to stay here.”

“Why?” Remus was stunned.

“You’ve nowhere else to go. I need someone to watch this place when I’m at Hogwarts. I won’t be around to bother you.”

“But - why do you trust me?”

Snape shrugged. “The war is over. Why shouldn’t I trust you?”

“Because I’m a werewolf.”

Snape flapped his hand. “We’ll take care of that. You won’t be a danger to the Muggles.”

“What do you want from me?”

“The toilet is your only headache. Oh, and sometimes the hot water is dodgy.”

“How am I supposed to repay you for this?”

“I’m sure you could nab a job around here, though it might be labor intensive.”

“I don’t want to live in your dead mum’s house.”

“Why the hell not? Where else can you go?”

Remus raised his chin. “I’m not an invalid. I’m a hard worker. I’ll find opportunities.”

“Like your last position? You can’t be a hard worker if you’re a lush.”

“How the hell do you know that!” Remus stood abruptly. “You’ve been stalking me like before!”

“I never _stalked_ you.”

“At school! Don’t be daft.” 

“I was just exceptionally observant.”

“Thank you for your help, but I’m leaving. You’ve always been too much of a lunatic for me.”

“I’ve got books. Rare ones, too. Muggle and magical.”

Remus stopped at the door. “I can go to the library if I want to read.”

“But you can hide here. Forget about the outside world. Isn’t that what you were trying to do?”

“I was trying to get laid.”

Snape closed his mouth. Remus could tell he was struggling to keep his expression blank.

“I need you to stay here because I need your help.”

“With what?”

Snape stood as well. “Come down to the cellar with me.”

“No way.”

Snape rolled his eyes. He handed Remus his wand. “I’m not going to do anything to you.”

“What if you’ve got someone hiding down there? You might want to kill me for revenge.”

“Revenge for what? Stop being absurd.”

“It happened all the time during the war.”

“Again, the war is over. Nothing’s going to hurt you. I just want to show you some of the plants I’m growing.”

Remus gulped. He should leave. He should walk out and never look back. But where would he go? What would he do? He still wasn’t convinced he’d live here like Snape wanted, but he knew he’d feel awfully empty once he was alone again.

“Fine,” he said, “but you go in first.”

In the corner of the kitchen was the door to the cellar. The light on the stairs was a Muggle bulb on a chain. 

The floor of the cellar was damp and covered lightly with soil. In the gloom, the overgrown plants looked like creatures squatting beneath green duvets. Snape turned on another stark light, and the tangle of vines and leaves came into view.

Remus sniffed the air. He recognized the scents. “Some of these are illegal.”

“They’re also stubborn. They need special daily treatment.”

“How special? Will any of them attack me?”

“No, but I need someone I can trust to look after them.”

“You trust me?”

“I trust you enough to water my plants.”

“And to live in your childhood home?”

“I don’t give a damn about this place.”

“Then why not sell it? Why grow things here? You should just ask Sprout for a corner in her blackout greenhouse.”

“She wouldn’t approve of these plants.”

“But _why me_? Don’t you have any -” Remus stopped himself. Of course Snape didn’t have any friends. They were all in Azkaban.

“I want you to be the person to do it. I’ll pay you. I’ll beg you. I’ll do whatever it takes for you to stop being so damn irritating and just accept my offer.”

“Beg me?” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“Just say you’ll do it, damn it.”

Remus stared. Having this entire house to himself did sound nice. The Muggles wouldn’t bother him.

“You promise to leave me alone?”

“Yes,” Snape said.

“Okay, I’ll do it - for now. But I will leave whenever I want. Now show me where you keep all these books.”

*

Remus spent the first couple of days learning how to properly take care of the plants. He spread out twenty books on the kitchen table, feeling like a student again. He took notes using an ink pen and Muggle paper. He’d have to come up with a strategy; each plant needed a different amount of water and darkness. He drank tea and coffee; he stayed away from booze.

It was hard to be alone in Snape’s house. It was old and dusty, and its bedrooms were filled with the belongings of dead people.

At night, the house creaked, the pipes groaned. He heard voices through shared walls. He lay in bed and imagined Sirius next to him; he reached his hand across the cool sheets and encountered Sirius’ warm, comforting body. Sometimes he cried.

When the days stretched on in solitude, it became difficult not to let the memories take over. He woke up to thoughts of Sirius and went to bed with them. Sirius was with him when he made breakfast, when he had his mid-afternoon tea. After long reading sessions, Remus leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. “I’m knackered,” he said, and Sirius responded, “If you aren’t careful, you’ll end up as blind as Prongs.”

He took daily baths. There was a bath but no faucet. Remus used his wand to fill it, then he spent a good hour soaking up the warmth. Sirius had always liked bathing him the day after full moons, gently running a flannel over his aching, bleeding limbs. He’d murmur to Remus, tell him he was brave, he was beautiful.

It was easy to forget they were all dead. 

While reading, he usually found tidbits that reminded him of Lily. He thought, _I should send her an owl. She’d have a laugh at this part._ He’d gotten closer to her after school, when James and Sirius would retreated into their own world and they were left to entertain themselves. Sunsets made him think of James. He gazed into the pink sky and wondered if James was practicing Quidditch. Dusk had always been his favorite time to fly.

He missed Peter’s reassuring presence. He had always been willing to help, to give Remus a friendly smile when he needed it. Remus missed smiles.

*

Snape returned on a Sunday. He brought dinner made by the House Elves.

“Beef stew,” he said, unshrinking each bowl, “with rolls and chocolate cake.”

“Thank you.” Remus’ voice was weak from not speaking.

They sat down at the kitchen table once again. Snape uncorked a bottle of Pumpkin Juice for them.

“How are the plants?”

“Fine, but I don’t know if I believe you about them not attacking me. The viney one likes to poke me in the side.”

“It’s a warning. Take it as such and don’t get too close.” Snape focused on his stew, his head turned down. He looked tired and his hair was greasier than usual.

“Are the children causing trouble?”

Snape sighed, then sat up straight when he realized what he’d done. “I’m fine.” 

“I can’t imagine that you enjoy teaching.”

“I don’t.”

“Why are you doing it?”

Snape shrugged. “It’s a job. I need the money.”

“But you could work anywhere with your skills.”

Snape closed his eyes. “Will you stop prying?”

They didn’t speak for a few minutes. Remus devoured the meal; he’d forgotten what food made by magic could taste like. The stew was just so rich.

“Something funny happened to me on Friday.”

“Oh?” Remus scraped the bottom of his bowl, wishing there was more.

“The staff are responsible for rounds after hours. I’m sure you remember. On Friday, I was near the Prefects’ Bathroom when I heard noise. A student was doing more than just bathing, you understand. I knocked and someone yelled, ‘Come in!’ I opened the door and discovered a boy and a girl shagging. Turns out, I misheard the boy’s ‘I’m coming!’ for an invitation to enter.”

Remus stared. “You’re making this up.”

“No, I’m not. That’s the kind of idiocy I deal with on a daily basis.”

“Is it weird to teach the older students? Don’t a few of them remember you as a seventh year?”

“A few, but I intimidate my classes too much for any familiarity.”

“Even with the Slytherins?”

“They are different.”

“Of course you’d play favorites.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “All the professors play favorites. It’s nothing new.”

“God.” Remus sat back and shook his head. “It’s just so _weird_ that you’re a professor.”

“You’re telling me,” Snape muttered. “What books have you been reading?”

“The ones you recommended for the plants; some magical history; some Muggle mysteries.”

“I enjoyed History of Magic at school.”

“Me too. We must’ve been the only ones.”

“I recall having books about the 1848 Revolutions.”

“Yes, and funny enough, I’m fascinated with that era. I wrote Binns loads of essays about it.”

“It’s a good epoch. I still can’t believe Polish werewolves overthrew their wizarding monarchy.”

Remus smiled. “Yeah, that’s pretty cool.”

“Sometimes revolutions do work out.” Snape said this sadly.

“Is that how you saw yourself? A revolutionary?”

“I was an idiot.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Snape snorted. “You like hearing me call myself an idiot?”

“Of course.”

“Are you done? Let’s go to the library.”

The “library” was an old bedroom where Snape had shrunk the bed and installed bookshelves on the walls. 

“What were the Muggle books you read?”

Remus hesitated. “Daphne du Maurier.”

Snape threw his head back and laughed. “My mum loved her. Of all the books you could’ve chosen!”

He’d never seen Snape laugh like that. It was genuine and not cruel. He smiled.

“I secretly love _Rebecca_. Have you read it?”

“Maybe.” Snape crossed his arms and looked away. “I might’ve _skimmed_ it when I was fifteen.”

“You probably rooted for Ms Danvers.”

“I did. I couldn’t stand the whinging narrator.”

“Have you read her other novels?”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Have _you_?”

“I might’ve skimmed _My Cousin Rachel_ too.”

“That novel’s rubbish! The ending is too vague. Was Rachel scheming for all his money or was she desperately in love?”

Remus laughed. “For someone who hasn’t read any of these books, you sure do have strong feelings about the characters.”

“I’ve strong feelings about most things.”

“This is true.” He traced the books with a finger. He thought about asking Snape what he should read next.

Snape stepped closer. He touched Remus on the shoulder. When Remus looked up, Snape kissed him. 

Remus jerked back. Snape tried to kiss him again, but Remus stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“I thought you were straight.”

“No,” Snape said.

“But you called me a poof at school.”

“Use your brain. I was overcompensating.” 

“But Lily -”

“Don’t say her name!”

Remus stared. “This is all wrong.”

“I’m sorry - just let me -” 

Snape tried to close the distance between them, but Remus stepped back. 

“Lupin -”

“Stop.”

“I’m not what you want, but you won’t even know it’s me. We can do it in the cellar - I could cast a spell -”

“No.”

“But you shagged strangers at that pub. How is this different?”

“I know you.”

“What do you want from me? You want me to beg? You want me on my hands and knees, _groveling_?”

“No, that’s what you want.”

“Black’s in Azkaban! He’s never getting out!”

Remus looked away. He crossed his arms. 

“You can pretend I’m him. In the dark, I can be anyone.”

“And what are you going to do? Close your eyes and pretend I have a fanny?”

“No - I would never -”

“Snape, give it up. I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“You are being ridiculous!” Snape stormed from the room.

For a few minutes, Remus thumbed through the books. He’d sensed this was why Snape asked him to live here, but he’d hoped they could avoid the whole mess. He decided on du Maurier’s _Jamaica Inn_ and ventured back to the lounge.

Surprisingly, Snape was on the sofa, hands clasped in his lap. He was breathing shallowly. 

“It’s not your style to stick around,” Remus said.

“You are very cruel.”

“Because I won’t fuck you?”

“I give you a place to live - I _feed_ you -”

Remus set the book down. “Time for me to go.”

He went up to his room to gather his few things. Snape followed closely.

“You don’t have to go! Just wait a minute!” Snape tried to grab him.

“Don’t touch me!”

They were in the dark bedroom with the newspaper on the window. Remus had his small suitcase open; he’d never fully unpacked.

Snape’s eyes were frantic. He was nearly panting. “I’m not good at these things. When things - people - matter to me, I always end up saying the wrong thing.”

“You think I owe you because you’ve let me stay here, but I’m doing you a favor. You won’t guilt me into shagging you. I refuse.”

“I don’t think you owe me anything! Not really! I was just angry.”

“Snape - this is mad. I was never meant to live in your childhood home. We were never meant to talk about Muggle novels and eat stew together. You probably thought it’d be easy to shag me because I’m desperate, but I’m desperate in a different way.”

“You mean I’m too ugly for you to shag me. You only like pretty boys.”

“Look at my scarred face. I have no business calling anyone ugly.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your face,” Snape said quietly.

“I still love Sirius.” He almost choked on Sirius’ name.

Snape’s eyes flashed. “Black is a murderer! How dare you still be loyal to him!”

Remus laughed. “Oh, this is rich. A Death Eater interrogating me on my choice of loyalty.”

“I’m not a Death Eater! Not anymore!”

“Not since your boss disappeared, you mean.”

“Damn you, Lupin! You’ve no idea what you’re talking about!”

“You still got that Dark Mark on your arm? Yes? Then I know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Snape’s chest beat up and down. He stared at Remus intensely. “Do you think the Dark Lord is really gone?” he whispered.

Remus flinched. “Don’t call him that.”

“I don’t think he’s gone. Neither does Dumbledore.”

“Stop - I don’t want to talk about this.”

“We think he’ll return. Maybe in ten years, maybe in fifteen. It might even take twenty.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Connect the damn dots, Lupin! I can’t spell it out for you.”

“I can’t think about this. I can’t - I’m not ready.” He was panicking. He couldn’t imagine facing another war. Not now. Not when his wounds were still fresh.

“I didn’t mean to - Christ!” Snape covered his face. “Just don’t leave, okay? I promise to leave you alone.”

Remus closed his suitcase and sat down on the bed. “The full moon is at the end of the month.”

“I know. You don’t need to worry about anything.”

“But -”

“Don’t worry, okay?”

Remus looked at him skeptically.

*

That night, he dreamed about Sirius again. They were in the Hogwarts library. Sirius prowled the aisles, dripping seawater on the floor, his wrists and ankles shackled.

“I like to read, too,” he said, and shoved a book into Remus’ hands.

Remus tried to open it, but Sirius stopped him. 

“You might need to burn the pages for warmth.”

“Why did you betray me?”

Sirius crouched close to the floor. There were feathers and moss in his hair. “Dogs cannot be trusted.”

When he awoke, he watched a spider crawl slowly across the black ceiling. In the sea, he’d be as small as that spider, beating against the waves until he lost his strength.

*

He thought about Snape. He thought about his shy glances, his genuine laughter. He wondered what it’d be like to kiss him again.

“I’m going mental,” he said to the empty house. 

He made it a habit to take late morning walks. The neighborhood was dreary with rubbish in the gutters and factory smoke clouding the sky. The walks cleared his mind. He didn’t think about Sirius or Snape, or the possibility of another war. He didn’t imagine Lily and James dead on the floor of their house. He didn’t see poor Peter bleeding out in the middle of the street.

He devoured books like they held the answers. He methodically cooked meals from the food that Snape supplied. He bought sweets with the money Snape left him. He lavished the plants with attention and encouragement. He began to feel normal again. At least when he was up and moving around.

Then, one day, he ran into Sirius. 

He was in the middle of a late morning walk. Spring was nowhere to be found, and he wore a heavy coat and a bundle of scarves. He hovered at shop windows, staring at the disinterested mannequins and silent tellys. He eavesdropped on all the chatty Muggles who passed him. So many complaints. So much unhappiness. They had no idea how lucky they were that Voldemort lost the war.

In the reflection of the shop window, he saw a man across the street. He turned abruptly, his heart pounding. It was Sirius. It had to be. The man had the same length and color of hair, his cheekbones just as high, his form just as elegant. But no: The man’s eyes were brown, not blue, and he was looking at Remus with mild disgust.

Stumbling away, Remus gasped for breath. He pulled at his scarves. He was being strangled. 

He ran back to Snape’s house, the world a blur. When he was finally alone, he collapsed on the floor, sobbing. He would never see Sirius again. Lily, James, and Peter had been _murdered_. They were gone, all gone, and Sirius was to blame.

Sometimes it was impossible to crack on. Sometimes it was easier, _smarter_ , to give up. Remus crawled to bed. He hid under the covers for days, never taking off his coat, his scarves disappearing under the pillows. Movement hurt. Thinking hurt more. He had assumed he was getting better, but sorrow liked surprises.

When he heard footsteps downstairs, he imagined violent thieves with big Muggle knives. _Come get me_ , he thought, and spent many minutes imagining his body turning cold in a pool of blood.

The door opened.

“What the hell are you doing?” Snape said. “It’s three in the afternoon.”

Remus was too weak to respond. 

Snape turned on the Muggle light and peered into his face. “Christ! What the hell have you done to yourself?” He tried to yank him from the bed, but he cried out. 

“Just leave me alone!” Remus yelled hoarsely. 

Snape left the room and returned a while later with a towel. “I’ve made you a warm bath.” He didn’t wait for Remus to respond before leviating him from bed. 

Remus thrashed. “I don’t want this!”

“Too bad.” He directed Remus down the corridor to the bath. He set Remus on his feet, then began removing his clothes.

“No, I’ve got it.” He moved to a corner to tug off his sweaty coat, then the jumper underneath. “I don’t want you here when I’m starkers.”

“Are you going to get into the bath?”

“Yes,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“Fine. Come downstairs when you’re done.” Snape left.

Remus considered Apparating away, but he didn’t have the strength or the will. He took off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the bath, groaning. The warm water felt amazing. 

He was exhausted. He rested his head on the hard porcelain and closed his eyes. He’d pick up the soap in a minute.

“Lupin! Wake up!” Someone was shaking him.

“W-what?”

Snape loomed over him, his face twisted in rage. “You imbecile! You could’ve drowned!”

“No, I wouldn’t have.” He flapped his wrinkled hand. “I’m a wizard.”

“You’re an idiot!” Snape crouched next to the bath and took up the flannel and soap. He washed Remus’ chest and arms, scrubbing hard. It took a moment for Remus to understand what he was doing. 

“Don’t wash me!” he said, thinking of Sirius. He covered himself with his hands.

Snape handed him the flannel. “You can get everything under the water.” He soaped up Remus’ hair, massaging his scalp in the process.

Remus’ eyes fluttered. He wanted to say _You know about shampoo?_ or _Too bad you can’t do this for yourself_. He grinned a little. 

“See, you’re already feeling better. Close your eyes.” Snape rinsed his hair.

“Turn around,” Remus said. When Snape complied, he finished scrubbing the rest of his body. “Remain turned around.” He stepped from the bath and toweled off. 

“You can look,” he said when the towel was safely around his waist.

Snape looked him up and down, smirking.

“Oh, sod off.” Remus brushed past him into the corridor. When he made it back to his room, he slammed the door shut to get dressed in private.

“Come downstairs when you’re decent. You need to eat something,” Snape said through the door.

“Okay.” Remus tugged on his clothes, not really understanding Snape’s concern. What did it matter to him if Remus starved or drowned in the bath? Other people could water his plants.

He cleaned his teeth with his wand then went downstairs. 

Snape had brought over another meal from the Hogwarts elves.

“Why don’t you just eat this in the Great Hall?” Remus sat down at the kitchen table.

“It gives me a reason to leave the castle. How many chicken legs do you want?”

“Four,” Remus said, suddenly feeling ravenous.

They ate in silence, their cutlery clicking against old chipped plates. When Remus finished, he sat back in his chair, and sighed. He felt so much better with food in him. Snape watched him closely.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“You almost killed my plants. How long were you in bed?”

Remus frowned. “I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Snape hesitated. “Since you’re feeling better, I have something to give you.”

Remus rubbed his hands together. “I hope it’s another du Maurier novel. I’ve read through your mum’s collection.” 

Snape smiled. He went to the counter and uncorked a bottle. He poured the steaming potion into a goblet.

Remus approached the counter. He wrinkled his nose. “What is it?”

“Have you heard about Wolfsbane?”

“No way,” he said, dumbfounded.

“Is that a yes?”

“But - it’s impossible to make!”

Snape pushed the goblet to him. “Obviously it’s not.”

“But - Christ, Snape! How did you get the ingredients?”

“It was tricky. I had to Apparate to Brazil for the Aconite.”

“You went all the way to South America for some ingredients?”

“No, I went all the way to South America to get my money’s worth. A shopkeeper there tried to keep my Galleons without sending me the actual goods.”

“Isn’t the brewing process exhausting?”

“It takes ten days to make, around the clock observation. You can’t let it boil or get too cold. I admit I didn’t get much sleep.”

His throat was tightening. “Did you make it for me?”

Snape cocked his head. “How many werewolves do you think I know?”

He moved closer. “You went through all that trouble just for me?”

Snape looked away. “I wanted to prove to myself I could do it.”

Remus touched his chest, then his warm neck. Snape’s heart was beating hard. Snape watched him like he was bracing for a punch. 

“God, Snape.” Remus pressed his mouth to his cheek, not really kissing him. He was just so damn touched; it’d be a long time since someone did something so nice for him. 

Snape clutched at his back, breathing loudly in his ear. Remus moved his mouth down to his neck, overwhelmed, not sure what he was doing. He hugged Snape to him, and the closeness of another person loosened something in him.

“Please,” Snape whispered.

“Yes, yes,” Remus said, because he couldn’t think, he could barely breathe, but he was tired of being so lonely. 

He kissed Snape gently, hesitantly. Snape made a shocked sound, maybe a whine. This reminded him of when he first kissed Sirius, and it was comforting, not alarming. He pressed Snape against the counter, enjoying the warmth of him, realizing for the first time he was taller than Snape.

“Please,” Snape whispered again.

“What do you want?”

“You.”

“Are you sure?”

Snape kissed him. He forced his tongue into Remus’ mouth, and Remus framed his face and pulled back to nibble on his bottom lip. _Slow down._

Snape moaned, his fingers biting into Remus’ back. He seemed so unsteady, like he’d topple over if he couldn’t hold onto Remus. 

They kissed and kissed, their tongues moving together, exploring. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Snape said.

Remus closed his eyes. He wanted to say something sarcastic, but his mind refused to focus. All he managed was a low laugh.

Taking his hand, Snape pulled him upstairs and stopped at a door that he unlocked with a tap of his wand. It was his childhood bedroom.

Spell equations and potion instructions covered the grimy walls. There was a window, but it was small and allowed in very little light. It made sense that Snape’d grown up in this room. 

“The bed in the other room is bigger,” Remus said.

Snape shook his head. “No, I want to do it here.” 

Remus pulled him into another kiss, his lips more confident this time. Snape weakened at the knees, completely giving into him. Remus was shocked and deeply aroused. He ran his tongue over Snape’s dry lips, his uneven bottom teeth. He curled his fingers in his greasy hair. He liked the reminders that Snape wasn’t attractive; they made him feel worthy of something.

He tugged at Snape’s robes, wanting to feel his bare skin. Snape let Remus undress him, which was another shock. Sirius always hated revealing himself. It’d disturbed him to be that vulnerable with another person.

“Do you really know what you’re doing?”

“Yes,” Snape said.

Remus mouthed along his shoulders, then down to his little tits. “Who’s fucked you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Remus grabbed Snape’s arse, hauling him closer. “What d’you expect it to be like with me?”

“You’ll probably call me Sirius and cry as you come.”

“If I cry, it’ll only be because I’m reminded that I’m fucking you.”

“Let me suck your cock. I promise you’ll beg me for another go.”

“Sucking my cock is a privilege you haven’t earned yet.”

He wrapped his hand around Snape’s erection. Snape stifled a groan.

“ _Who has fucked you?_ ”

“Does it matter? I thought of you the whole time.” Snape batted his eyes at him.

“You’re such a fucking liar.”

“I am.” Snape kissed him deeply and helped him remove his clothes.

Remus had the urge to cover himself up, to not allow Snape to feel all the scars on his chest. Snape followed a particularly nasty one from his collarbone to his navel with his fingertip. 

“I’m spoiled goods,” Remus said with a half smile.

“No.” Snape dragged his tongue along the same scar, then back up to lap at his nipples. It was a strange sight. 

“Are you really going to let me shag you?”

Snape kissed up to his chin. “You sound like you want me to change my mind.”

“I don’t.” He rubbed Snape with a flat palm, slowly, letting his thumb drag over his wet tip. Snape moaned into his shoulder.

He maneuvered Snape to the bed. He expected Snape to fight him, to resist, but he let Remus shove him down and part his thighs roughly.

He brushed his fingers over his hole, expecting to find him tight and unprepared like a straight bloke, but it was another surprise. Snape was stretched, used. Remus muttered a lube spell and easily sank two fingers in him.

“You let Muggles shag you, don’t you?”

Snape twisted on his fingers, his chest heaving. “Oh, God.”

“Don’t you?”

Snape tried hiding his face. “No, no.”

“Why are you so ready for me?” Remus fucked him, his fingers curling, beckoning him to bliss.

“Spells!”

“When’s the last time a prick was inside you?”

“More.” Snape beared down on his fingers, his eyes shut tight, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. “I want more.”

Remus added a third finger. He wanted to bring up Lily, ask how she fit into the equation, but he was desperate to be inside Snape.

“Fuck, I’m ready,” Snape said.

He withdrew his fingers and slicked up his cock. He positioned himself and looked down at Snape, who was flushed and wide-eyed.

“Now?”

Snape nodded.

He eased into Snape, not wanting to hurt him. Snape moaned and arched into him. When he was all the way in, Remus had to close his eyes and steady himself.

“Move, damn you!” 

He pushed into Snape, over and over. His eyes stung with tears. The pleasure was overwhelming. Distantly, he heard Snape groan and murmur his name, but his mind was elsewhere. 

The last time he’d shagged Sirius, it’d been emotional, frustrating. Sirius was agitated and sick with worry about James and Lily. It was a few days after Bellatrix Lestrange had finally got Frank and Alice. Sirius needed something from Remus, but he was elusive, strangely intense. He rode Remus slowly, not allowing him to move. Remus had thrashed; he’d dug his nails into Sirius’ thighs, urging him to go faster. He’d wanted to flip them over, fuck Sirius as hard as he could, pounding and pounding until his heartache spilled from him like liquid.

He did this now with Snape. He didn’t care about Snape. He didn’t. He pushed Snape’s legs up and drilled into him. Snape dug his fingers into Remus’ arms, tight, pinching.

Remus stroked his cock.

“Oh, God!” Snape said, his voice high. He sounded so fucking _weak_.

“Are you gonna come for me?” 

Snape twisted beneath him, his mouth hanging open. He looked stunned.

Remus tightened his hand. “Answer me.”

“ _Yes._ ”

“D’you think you deserve to come?”

“You’ve no idea,” Snape whispered, trying to thrust into his hand.

“Tell me.”

“God. Come inside me.”

Remus threw his head back; he was closer than he’d thought. He was going to orgasm before Snape. He was going to make a fool of himself. 

Snape pulled him down into a kiss, moaning into his mouth. He wrapped his legs around his waist, utterly surrendering to Remus’ bruising thrusts. Remus came hard, his hips jerking, and he thought he heard Snape yelp.

When he’d calmed down, he felt Snape’s knuckles moving against his stomach as he tried to bring himself off. Remus eased out and slapped Snape’s hand away. He swallowed down his cock, which made Snape _shout_.

He bobbed his head quickly, sucking almost too hard. He reached between Snape’s wet thighs to brush his fingers over his used hole.

Snape cried out and flooded his mouth. Remus grunted, swallowing quickly, still sucking a little. 

“Good?” Remus asked.

Snape blinked and smiled a little. “Fuck.”

“Are you okay?”

“I think so.”

He pulled Snape into his arms. He liked this softer version of him. All the tension had disappeared from his body.

They fell asleep, the early evening light pressing against the window.

*

That night, Remus dreamed about Sirius. _Of course_ he dreamed about Sirius.

The dream should’ve been violent, angry, all of his guilt coming alive as Sirius shoved him to the ground and demanded an answer. _What the fuck, Moony? Snivellus? Really?_

But instead it was tender, loving. Sirius wrapped himself around Remus, murmuring, smiling, as Remus brought him to orgasm.

Sirius wreathed his face with warm kisses. “I love you, I love you.” 

He woke up in the middle of the night, the sensation of Sirius beneath him washing over him. He gasped, utterly heartbroken. He wanted to weep, but Snape was asleep next to him. Instead, he threw the duvet off Snape and kissed down his body. He was still wet, but Remus cast a lube spell just to make sure. He pushed into Snape carefully.

“Remus,” Snape whispered, half-asleep.

“Don’t say anything.” He quickened his thrusts, allowing himself to be rough.

Snape arched his back, panting, and surrendered completely.

*

Over the next week, Snape frequently popped in to be with Remus. He made sure Remus was taking his daily dose of Wolfsbane. They shagged in the kitchen and lounge; sometimes Snape stayed the night, other times he had to rush off to teach a class. All the Apparating exhausted him, and Remus made him dinner and fucked him into incoherence.

When Snape did spend the night, he fell asleep while marking, his quill staining the crinkled parchment. One night after dinner, Remus walked into the lounge and found him dozing with a second year’s essay in his hands. 

He couldn’t look away. Something in him twisted, fluttered. He went to the sofa and gently took the marking from his hands. He kissed Snape awake, burying his hands in his hair. Snape moaned and clutched at him.

“I want you right now,” Remus said.

Snape stood. “Not here. Let’s go to my bedroom.”

The full moon was at the end of the week. Remus spent the day on the edge of delirium. Snape forced the last dose of Wolfsbane into his mouth and rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s going to work,” Snape said quietly. “I promise.”

Remus stuffed his fist into his mouth so he didn’t snarl like a dog. 

When dusk arrived, he begged Snape to chain him up in the cellar and leave the house.

“I’ll lock you in the cellar, but I’m not leaving you.” Snape rolled his eyes. “ _Trust me_.”

“Never!” Remus yelled from the floor. He punched his thighs and tore at his hair. “Everyone is dead!”

Snape tried to touch him but Remus rolled away.

“Get away! I could kill you!”

“You’re being dramatic,” Snape said, bored. Using his wand, he helped Remus down to the cellar. The plants raised their leaves in greeting.

Snape helped him remove his clothes. He tried to gather him into his arms, but Remus shoved him away. Only Sirius was allowed to do that.

Instead, Snape sat in a chair, wand in hand. Remus lay on the hard floor, trembling. He felt Sirius next to him. He reached out, hoping to hold onto him, and only encountered empty space.

He was so lonely he felt carved out. 

“Trust me,” Snape repeated, trying to soothe.

When Remus felt the transformation begin, he tried yelling at Snape to get out, but his throat closed and all he managed was a loud gurgle. 

The transformation was different. He was more aware, which was a good and bad thing. The pain was unbearable. He wished for oblivion. The wolf’s mind was numbing; he could hide in it. 

At the end of it all, Remus remained. It was strange. He was the werewolf, standing on four paws, sniffing the air. Snape approached him, but Remus backed away, not sure how to act. He couldn’t speak, and growling would embarrass him. 

Snape patted him on the head. “Good boy.” Remus stared at him, which made Snape laugh. “I told you it would work.”

Remus sniffed at the corners of the cellar, whining. He could smell the outside world, but he couldn’t get to it. The plants looked different; they glowed faintly and curled away when he brushed past. One smelled like rotten eggs, the other like bloody steak. It made him salivate. 

“Stay away from the plants,” Snape said. “They might harm the wolf.”

Remus paced the room, all the wolf’s energy coiled up. He wanted to run in open fields, weave around muddy trees in forests. He wanted to eat a rabbit, maybe something bigger. He wanted to drink from a cool stream. 

“I could pet you.”

He laid down next to Snape. _I’m not your lap dog_ , he wanted to say. Snape buried his hand in Remus’ thick fur, his fingers massaging behind his ears, down his spine. Oh. 

They stayed like that until Remus fell asleep. He didn’t know what Snape did for the rest of the night, but when he woke up at dawn, Snape was still in the chair.

*

During the next couple of days, Snape helped him recover. Remus wasn’t all scratched up, but he was still exhausted. Snape brought him his meals in bed and helped him to the toilet outside. He bent low to tie his shoes, something he didn’t need to do by hand.

Slowly, Remus learned about him. Snape liked to be soft with him, to show him incredible kindness, but Remus could never point this out. Snape’s affection, his careful observation of Remus’ needs, had to be treated like a dark secret. It was the white elephant no one mentioned.

When Remus gained his strength back, Snape returned to Hogwarts for a week of teaching. “I’ll come back this weekend,” Snape said. “Unless you don’t want me to?”

“I want you to.”

The week passed slowly. Remus fell into his routine again of watering plants, book reading, and late morning walks. He spent many hours in bed, watching shadows dance on the ceiling, wondering if he should be crippled by guilt. 

Remus had always did his best to be honest with himself. He wanted to stare reality in the face, to meet his problems head on. The end of the war had changed that, and now he couldn’t read his own feelings. His pain was fading, but he didn’t know if it was because he was healing or falling deeper into darkness. 

“Sirius,” he whispered, and he imagined Sirius heard him all the way in Azkaban. He imagined admitting to shagging Snape. Sirius would grimace. “What the fuck, Moony? You’re too good for him.”

No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t think of Sirius as the murderer who betrayed his best friends. It didn’t make sense. It only made sense if he hid a deep heartache, something so personal, so consuming, that even Remus couldn’t know about it.

There was only one possible explanation, but it was too painful for Remus to linger on. He just wondered if James had ever felt the same way.

On Friday, Snape appeared in the lounge. Remus pressed him against the wall and kissed him deeply. Snape managed a soft moan, but exhaustion lined his body. Remus pulled back to examine him. He was greasy and his face was drained of color. 

“Are you ill?”

Snape shook his head. “It was a bad week. Sometimes I can’t sleep.”

“Oh.” He stepped back.

Snape grabbed him. “No, I want you near. Come to bed with me.”

They went upstairs, but Remus pulled him into the bathroom. He filled the bath with his wand and helped Snape undress.

“This isn’t a bed,” Snape said.

“I’m not sure if you two have been introduced. Bath and soap, this is Snape. Snape, this is bath and soap.”

“I’m laughing on the inside,” Snape said, sinking into the water. 

Remus hesitated. He didn’t know if he wanted to wash Snape. If he would let himself.

“I’ll only be a minute.”

Remus kneeled beside the bath. He kissed Snape. He tasted the steam on his chin, his neck. 

“You’re giving me a stiffy.”

“Good.” He was warm with affection. He kissed the inside of his arms, his hard knuckles, and did his best to ignore his Dark Mark. “You make me feel so many things.”

“Help me,” Snape whispered, his hand twisting in Remus’ jumper. 

Remus wanted to consume him, and to be consumed. He wanted to disappear.

“I’ll focus on your hair; you do everything else.”

A few minutes later, they were back in Snape’s bed, curled around each other. Snape’s hair dripped on the pillow, his skin pink and very touchable. 

“Please be here when I wake up,” Snape murmured.

“Okay.” Remus would never get over hearing Snape say _please_. It was a shock he even knew the word. 

When Remus woke up, the room was dark. He turned over and found Snape watching him.

“How long have you been up?”

“Long enough.” Snape dragged his hand down Remus’ chest, over his hip. “I want to fuck you.”

Remus stilled. “I . . . I’m not used to that.”

Snape groaned and buried his face in his shoulder. “I can’t fucking handle it.”

“Handle what?”

“Please let me fuck you. I’ll be careful. I’ll make you feel so good.”

“Okay,” he said, not really understanding why he was agreeing. 

“Turn around. I’m sure you don’t want to see me.”

Remus didn’t move. “I want to be on my back.”

Snape closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He kissed Remus’ cheek. “Sometimes you say the worst things.”

“I don’t have to be on my back.”

“No, I want it. I want it so much. Spread your legs.”

Remus did so, heart pounding. Snape Conjured too much lube, drenching Remus’ arse. He pushed his finger inside too quickly. 

“Christ,” Remus groaned. 

“I can cast a spell. Make it easier for you.”

“Yes.”

Snape muttered a spell, and Remus’ mouth fell open. He felt his arse opening, loosening up. 

“Better?”

“Put more fingers in me.”

Snape added another finger, watching Remus’ face. He curled up, searching. Remus sucked in a breath.

“I love making you feel good,” Snape said.

“Get inside me. I want you to hurt me.”

“I never want to hurt you.” Snape withdrew his fingers and positioned himself.

“Do it now. Fuck me so hard I forget my name.”

“You just want to forget who’s fucking you.”

Remus kissed him and reached down to stroke him, spreading the lube along his cock. “I’m ready.”

Snape sucked in a breath. Together they helped him push inside Remus. 

“Oh,” Remus said, trembling. It hurt even with help from the spell. He couldn’t believe Sirius had let him do this when they were just sixteen. 

Snape pushed in a little more. “All right?”

Remus clutched at him, not sure if he wanted to pull him closer or shove him away. “It’s weird.”

Panting, Snape said, “I can stop. We can do it the other way.”

“Just get on with it.”

Snape pushed into him more. He was trembling, his hair falling into his face.

“Tell me I’m the only one.”

“God,” Remus said, twisting. Nobody had ever hurt him like this. “You’re the only one.”

“Do you like this? I want to make it so good for you.”

Remus met his shallow thrust. “More. I want more.”

Snape pressed deeper. He opened his mouth to Remus’ cheek. “You’re killing me.”

“Go faster. I can take it.”

“No.” Snape carefully thrust in and out, shaking from holding himself back. “You deserve gentleness.”

“I don’t.” 

“You feel so fucking good.” Snape moved a little harder, moaning. “You’re all I think about.”

Remus arched his back. “Snape.”

Snape grabbed his neck lightly, barely holding it. “Say my first name.”

“No, you bastard.”

Snape sped up his thrusts, his hand tightening. “Fucking say it.”

He felt trapped, pinned down. Snape was splitting him open, and he couldn’t breathe. 

“Severus.”

“I love you,” Snape whispered, his fingers digging into Remus’ neck.

“No, you don’t.” 

“You’re right. I don’t.” Snape released him. 

Remus wrapped his arms around him. “Make this worth my time. Fuck me harder.”

Snape complied, panting against his neck. Remus widened his thighs and arched into it. He wanted to give Snape everything he could. 

Snape was moaning, almost whining. He grabbed Remus’ wrists and forced them above his head. “I own you.”

“No.” 

“You’re mine. You will always be mine.”

Remus tried to concentrate. He could barely hear what Snape was saying.

“Fuck, you’re going to make me come,” Snape said.

“Not yet.” 

Snape was so hard inside him, but he didn’t want it to end.

“I can’t, I can’t.” He bit Remus’ shoulder and came, moaning, his hips pumping.

Light flashed behind Remus’ eyes; he was so fucking turned on. When Snape pulled out, he felt his semen drip from him. He wished he could taste it. 

“Your gorgeous cock,” Snape said, then took him into his throat. Remus convulsed. It was the first time Snape’s mouth had been on him. 

“ _Severus_ ,” he said, not knowing himself. 

This made Snape whine and suck harder. Remus grabbed his head and fucked into his mouth. He came, thrusting too deeply, too quickly. He was sure he hurt Snape’s nose.

Afterward, they lay together in the small bed, sweaty, a little drowsy.

Remus touched Snape’s warm stomach, his cold fingers. “When did this happen?” 

Snape had an arm draped over his eyes. “What d’you mean?”

“This. You. I thought you were attracted to women.”

Snape tensed. “I am.”

“But you want to shag me?”

“It’s possible to want both.”

Remus frowned. “Obviously, but you . . . weren’t this way when we were in school.”

“I wasn’t?” Snape raised his arm to squint at him.

“What are we talking about?”

“I was very . . . distracted by you.”

“Even after the prank? I almost killed you.”

Snape shook his head. “You have so many assumptions about me.”

“You were a huge prat!”

“That’s because you were too busy drooling all over --”

They stared up at the ceiling in silence. Remus had no desire to talk about Sirius with Snape, and he was relieved that Snape had stopped himself.

“I didn’t realize you fancied me.”

Snape sat up. “Let’s stop talking about it.”

“Why? Did you wank to thoughts of me?”

“Piss off!” Snape tried to leave the bed, but Remus grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer.

“Oh, come on.” He kissed Snape. “You can tell me.”

“Never. You’ll just use it against me.”

“How? I have no power over you.”

“And you never will.” Snape threw off his hold and left the bed. He dressed himself angrily.

Remus laid back, watching him. He was scrawny, too pale, but his arse was nice. He faced Remus, scowling. He really was ugly. 

“Did you shag other Death Eaters?”

“No.” Snape crossed his arms.

“When did you even have time to come to terms with your sexuality?”

“There was no _coming to terms_. I never cared.”

“Bollocks. Gay blokes comfortable with themselves don’t call people poofs.”

“I’m not _gay_.”

“You still called me a poof.”

“I was an idiot. How many times do I have to say this to you? Would you prefer it in writing?”

“Yeah.” Remus smiled, which just angered Snape even more. 

Snape stormed from the bedroom, the door thudding against the wall. Remus pulled the duvet over him and nestled into the pillow. A kip sounded nice.

*

When Remus woke up, he was alone in the bedroom. He listened closely and heard no movement downstairs. Snape must’ve taken his tantrum back to Hogwarts.

He dressed but didn’t leave the room. He stared at it with new interest. His arse hurt and he was all sticky, and somehow this made him tender. Everything in this room _belonged_ to Snape.

He dragged his hand along the writings on the walls. The man who wrote all this had been inside him. 

There was a desk and a chair. He touched the desk, imagining teenage Snape spending hours here studying. 

He sat down and opened the main drawer. He was hungry for secrets.

Under some parchment was a stack of photographs and newspaper clippings. He looked at the photographs first. He thought he’d encounter Snape’s mum, but every photograph was of Lily. Lily as a child and preteen. Lily as a teenager and adult. Sometimes she was in Muggle clothes, other times she was in robes. How in the world had Snape gotten his hands on all these? 

Remus didn’t know what he felt. Maybe he was jealous.

He picked up the pile of newspaper clippings. He gasped. They contained photographs of Lily and James, but James’ head had been cut out. He assumed they were printed following Voldemort’s defeat, when the wizarding world was still trying to wrap its head around Harry Potter and the parents who tried to save him.

It was disgusting that Snape had done this. The clippings were water-stained and crinkled, like Snape held them for a long time. He probably cried, staring into Lily’s black and white face, imagining his head next to hers.

It was a violation. She’d died married to James, trying to protect their son. Snape had no business rewriting her agency like this. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Snape was behind him.

Remus flinched but didn’t drop the clippings. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Snape tried to yank them from him. “These are private! How dare you go through my things!”

“You’re the one who wanted me in here in first place!”

“I didn’t expect you to search through my desk!”

Remus didn’t care if he’d made a mistake. “Why, Snape? This is . . . not okay.”

“It’s none of your business!” Snape lunged at him, trying to grab the clippings again.

“How did you even get some of these photos? I had no idea your obsession ran this deep.”

“It’s not an obsession!” His face twisted. “You’ve no idea what you’re talking about!”

“She was married! She didn’t choose you!”

“Shut up,” Snape said, deadly quiet. “You’ve no idea what I’ve been through. What I’ve sacrificed. She would be alive if it weren’t for your murdering boyfriend!”

Remus stood up. “Don’t fucking talk about Sirius.”

“Why? He’s _nothing_. I hope the Dementors torture him for years.”

“You should be the one in Azkaban, not him!” Remus had no idea what he was saying, but it felt like the truth. “You are ten times the murderer.”

Snape shook his head sadly. “You are really pathetic. I feel sorry for you. Black is the reason we nearly lost the war, but you can’t accept it because he let you fuck him.”

“At least I shagged him! Lily wouldn’t even let you touch her.”

Snape pointed his wand at him. “Lily _loved_ me.”

“No, she didn’t. I heard her in the library. She wanted nothing to do with you.”

Snape came closer, his expression murderous. “And you think a psychopath like Black loved you? How could anyone love a werewolf?”

“You’re right,” Remus said quietly. It was strange to have this argument when his arse still throbbed. “This has all been a mistake. I should’ve never come here.”

“Leave then! You never cared about me anyway!”

Remus went to his bedroom. The bedroom that held his suitcase. There was more to pack now, but he did it quickly. Snape hovered in the doorway, watching him. 

“You are such a coward,” Snape said. 

Remus closed his suitcase. His coat was down in the lounge. He moved to the door, but Snape stood in his way.

“Where will you go? No one wants a werewolf around them.”

“Get out of my way.”

“No.”

“You are such a manipulating arsehole!”

“How dare you call me names. I gave you a roof over your head. I gave you _money_. You’d be dead in an alley somewhere if it weren’t for me.”

“Maybe that’s what I want!” Remus shoved him out of the way. He was halfway to the stairs before Snape grabbed him.

“You can’t leave.”

Remus shoved at him. “You are a lunatic!”

“You know nothing about me!” Snape held on tighter. 

“Then let me go! Find someone else to play games with!”

“I’m not playing games! It’s all real!”

Remus pushed him so hard he fell. He charged down the stairs to grab his coat. Snape followed.

“Please don’t leave,” Snape said, panicking. 

“You are mad. Nothing you do makes sense.”

“Let me explain. Give me another chance.”

Remus had his coat. He looked at Snape. “She never loved you. James was a good man. He died protecting his family. He doesn’t deserve your hatred.”

“He was a bully! One brave moment in his life doesn’t erase a lifetime of insufferable behavior.”

“You were a bully, too. I saw it myself.”

“He never deserved her!” Snape breathed hard, his eyes crazed. 

Remus couldn’t fathom the person standing in front of him. He didn’t understand how Snape could want him so much and still be so obsessed with Lily. He didn’t understand how he could be so soft, so vulnerable, and still be so delusional.

“I can’t handle this anymore,” Remus said.

“Please.”

Remus sighed. “Why is it so important that I stay? I will always be second best to you.”

“No.” Snape shook his head. “You know nothing about my feelings for you.”

“You will always be second best to me.” Remus Apparated from the house.


	3. Part Three

* * *

Shagging in a cave was a terrible reunion.

They sat together on a blanket, knees almost touching. Remus wanted to undress Sirius, to expose what the years had done to his body, but he didn’t want to force anything. The rocks and pebbles would be hard on Sirius’ back.

The cave was cold, even with his wand warming their little area. The walls were lined with dirt and graffiti. The corners reeked of urine. Sirius was using old newspaper as a bed for Padfoot. 

They struggled to speak. It’d been nearly a year since Sirius’ return, and Remus was still in shock.

Remus stared at a pile of animal bones and bright feathers. “Do you have a creature living with you?”

“Buckbeak. He’s out hunting right now.”

“Oh.” Remus was a bit disturbed. 

Sirius pushed back his hair, embarrassed. “I tried to clean myself up for you.”

“I don’t care.” He held Sirius’ hand just to make sure he was real. Sirius squeezed back. 

“Did you bring food?”

“Yes.” He handed the bag to him.

Sirius pulled out the Cornish pasties, the Muggle hamburgers. “How did you get all this?”

“I’m sure you’ve already guessed.”

“Have things really been that bad for you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Oh, Moony.” Sirius put his arm around him, barely touching him. “Can I kiss you?”

“Of course.” His heart was pounding. 

Sirius kissed him softly. It was like kissing a stranger. His lips seemed thinner, colder. There was no passion, just hesitation. 

“I’m sorry.” Sirius trembled.

“Don’t be.” Remus pulled him closer, shocked by how small he felt in his arms. “You’ve been through a lot. We don’t have to rush anything.”

“You’re the only thing that kept me going in there.” Sirius choked on his words.

“We don’t have to talk about it. Have you spoken to Harry?”

Sirius brightened. “Yes. He and his mates trudged up here to bring me food. They are very curious about Barty Crouch. They think he has something to do with Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup.”

“That’s very interesting.” He hadn’t seen Sirius this animated in ages.

“Yes, they send me updates from school. Can’t you feel something’s about to happen?”

“I don’t want to think about it,” he said. 

“But - we have to start preparing! We have to find a way to protect Harry.”

“I didn’t come here to talk about war, or whatever horrors await us. I came here to be with you.”

Sirius deflated. “I’m sorry - it helps me to focus on these things. It gives me a purpose; it clears my mind.”

“I can see that.” Remus inhaled deeply. “I don’t want to hide from these things, but I will face them when they’re a reality. For right now, I want to just enjoy my time with you.” 

Sirius kissed his hands, his wrists. He curled a finger around his greying hair. “Merlin, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Remus felt empty when he said this. He wanted to embrace Sirius, to worship his body, but something held him back. Sirius might disappear again.

Sirius finished off a pasty in two bites. He went slower with the hamburger. “I’d kill for a pint.”

“I don’t drink anymore.”

“Why not?”

Remus played with the frayed end of his jumper. “Right after the war, it became a problem. It probably would’ve killed me if I hadn’t stopped.”

“I hope there was some happiness.”

“At times.”

Sirius smiled sadly. “I properly ruined us, didn’t I?”

Remus’ throat tightened. He couldn’t meet Sirius’ eyes. “You ruined us a little, but it’s nothing we can’t overcome. Unless you don’t want to overcome it.”

“I will do anything to make it up to you.”

He wanted to say, _There’s nothing to make up. You did what you thought was necessary_ , but they wouldn’t survive if he started lying now.

“I’ve been exchanging owls with Dumbledore. He wants me to move back to Grimmauld Place soon.”

“Are you sure you can handle that?”

“No, but it’d be loads easier if I have you with me. We’d finally be able to see each other more often because I won’t be hiding in caves.”

“Oh.”

“Please say yes. I need help cleaning up the old house, and I . . . want you with me.”

Remus didn’t respond right away. It was important they had this conversation, but he’d hoped for it to happen later.

“We’ve both changed. I’m not the boy you remember. I don’t want you to be disappointed with me.”

When Sirius spoke, his eyes shined with tears. “I could never be disappointed with you. Never.”

His devotion made Remus uneasy. Remus closed his eyes, angry with himself.

“Of course I’ll live with you at Grimmauld Place. I’ll help you in any way I can.”

“Can we try kissing again?” 

Remus framed Sirius’ face and kissed him firmly. Sirius relaxed, but only a little, his mouth parting. Remus moved slowly, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip. 

Sirius broke the kiss, gasping. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

Remus kissed his shoulder. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I want you. I do. I’m just not used to it.”

“I understand completely.”

“Will you lay with me?”

Remus lowered onto his back and pulled Sirius into an embrace. Sirius was dirty, his smell strong. Remus buried his face in his neck, breathing him in. It was proof that Sirius was actually alive.

“I love this,” Sirius whispered.

He kissed his neck. “I love you.”

“Merlin.” Sirius shook with tears. “Fuck. Ignore me. I’m just so tired of fighting.”

“Cry as long as you need. I’ve got you.”

“I’ve caused you so much pain.”

“Shh.” Remus kissed his grubby forehead, his sunken cheeks. “I’ve got you.”

“Please be patient with me,” Sirius whispered. “I want to make you happy.”

Remus wasn’t sure if he could be happy.

*

A year earlier, Remus had been teaching at Hogwarts.

He loved teaching. It was a revelation, a discovery. He hadn’t realized how much he missed Hogwarts, even though he’d dreamed about the place for years.

The children were remarkable, charming; his colleagues were helpful, welcoming. The only person who truly gave him problems was Snape. 

It’d been over ten years since Remus Apparated from his childhood home, but Snape glared at him like it was yesterday. He wore his hatred openly, like a medal, like he was married to it.

Wolfsbane made things awkward. Snape had to deliver his dose daily. He did it when he knew Remus would be surrounded by children or staff; he wanted to humiliate him. 

When they found themselves alone, Snape vibrated with so much anger that Remus was afraid to get close.

“Just leave it on the table, Severus. Thank you.”

Snape slammed the goblet down. He stared at Remus, his mouth twisting. 

“I know what you’re up to.”

Remus looked down at his desk. “Marking?”

“Don’t play dumb. You might’ve fooled Dumbledore, but you will never fool me.”

Remus leaned against his desk, his arms crossed. Snape looked like he was nearing fifty; he looked like someone who was too worn out to smile. He toyed with his sleeve, and Remus didn’t know if it was a warning or if he was nervous. 

Sometimes honesty was its own prize. 

“I have nothing to do with Sirius’ escape, but you will never believe me. You want me to be the enemy. You want to punish me for leaving all those years ago.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“I’m not going to apologize. I still think what I did was best. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about you.”

Snape jerked forward. He spoke so softly it was hard to hear him. “You never wrote, you never tried to see me.”

“I didn’t want to see you.”

“We could’ve had something casual. It never had to be serious.”

Remus laughed. “You’re incapable of being casual, of not taking things seriously. I barely know you, but I know that.”

“You know me,” Snape said with emotion. 

“No, I don’t.” He came closer. “It kills me that he’s out there and I can’t do anything about it.”

The shutters came down on Snape’s face. He stared at Remus, expressionless. “There’s so much you could do. For one, you could leave this school. Stop endangering the children.”

Remus flinched. “With the Wolfsbane, I’m not a threat.”

“Maybe one day I will forget to make it.”

“You wouldn’t do that to Dumbledore.”

“I’d make him understand. You’re Black’s co-conspirator. You’re his old lover, his puppy dog. You’ll do anything he asks.”

“I’m also the man who broke your heart. Dumbledore understands petty grudges.”

“Do you think he cares about you? He doesn’t. He only cares about the endgame, the checkmate. He would sacrifice every one of us if it meant the safety of the magical world.”

“I think he’s reasonable. He won’t stand by as you ruin an innocent man’s reputation because he won’t shag you.”

Snape smirked menacingly. “Want to bet? I have some coins in my pocket.”

“I can’t afford to bet.”

Snape hesitated. “Have dinner with me.”

“No. I’m not playing your games.”

“This has never been a game to me.”

“You don’t get to threaten me, then ask me to dinner. You don’t get to despise me while desperately hoping I’ll let you have me.”

“I must protect myself.”

“And I too must protect myself. Please leave.”

Snape stormed from the room, his robes trailing behind him. It was funny how much things never changed.

*

When the knock came on Remus’ tiny flat, he knew something was terribly wrong.

He opened the door and found Sirius on his doorstep.

“Get in before someone sees you!”

Sirius stumbled into his lounge, shaking. Remus shut the door and cast a silencing spell.

“What’s happened?”

Sirius could barely speak. He fell back on the sofa, covering his face. “He’s back.”

Remus had imagined this moment for years. He thought he’d cry out or fall to his knees. Instead he stood over Sirius, his hand on his wand.

“We will win this.”

“Wormtail abducted Harry. He used Harry to bring Voldemort back.”

Remus closed his eyes. “Is Harry safe?”

“Yes . . . but Merlin! He’s only a child. He doesn’t deserve this!”

“And James and Lily didn’t deserve to die so young. There’s plenty of tragedy to go around. We must be strong now.”

“I was. I was so strong for Harry.” Sirius clutched at Remus’ robes, still trembling. “The whole time my mind was a blur. It was so hard not to crumble in front of him.”

“Who else was there?”

“Everyone you’d imagine. The Weasleys because of the Triwizard Tournament. Snape, of course.”

“Did Snape see you?”

He grinned. “Oh, yes. He was livid. Dumbledore made him shake hands with me.”

“Christ. I’m sure he hated that.”

“He did.” Sirius’ grin faded. “Dumbledore sent him on some type of mission. I was right outside the door when it happened, so I didn’t get details.”

Remus hoped Dumbledore had asked him to return to the Death Eaters, to beg Voldemort forgiveness. If not, Snape was a dead man.

He pushed back his hair with a shaking hand. He didn’t know how he felt about any of it.

“Dumbledore wants us to alert the remaining Order members. Get the old gang back together.”

“Should we chance using the Patronus charm?” With Voldemort back, every spell held a risk.

“That’s how we communicated before,” Sirius said. “I can’t imagine a better way.”

Remus produced some parchment and two quills from a drawer. “Let’s make a quick list.”

“There’s Dedalus.” Remus wrote down his name.

“Oh? I’m glad he’s still alive. What about Benjy?”

“Dead.”

“What? Really?” Sirius looked bewildered.

“Revenge murder after the war. Moody says they only found bits of him.”

“Damn. Is Elphias still around?”

“Yes.”

Sirius brightened. “Oh, that’s good.”

“Then Emmeline is still around.”

“Good. What about the Prewetts?” 

Remus shook his head. “No. Don’t you remember?”

Sirius frowned, thinking. “I suppose not.” He took a deep breath. “What about Dorcas?”

“Dead.”

“Rocoldo?”

“Dead.”

“Betty?”

“Dead, but after the war.”

“Huh. I didn’t think she was that old.”

“She wasn’t. She killed herself.” 

“Please tell me Sturgis is alive.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“Thank Merlin.”

They stared at the short list. 

“Dumbledore also mentioned Dung and Arabella.”

“Right,” Remus said, “though I’m not sure how helpful he will be.”

“When has he ever been helpful?”

“Good point. I guess we should start casting.”

They produced their first corporeal Patronuses, a large black dog and a bigger, more angular dog-like creature. Remus stared. It made him so fucking nostalgic to see them together like that.

He turned and framed Sirius’ face with his hands.

“What -?”

Remus kissed him. He knew they had work to do, but all he wanted was to drop to his knees for him. 

Sirius pushed him away gently. “Later.” 

When they had contacted everyone, they were both exhausted. They lounged on the sofa, eyes closed.

“I don’t want to go back,” Sirius murmured.

“The Order needs it.”

“I know, but . . . you remember, my family was shit. That house contains so many horrors for me.”

Remus encouraged him to rest his head in his lap. He brushed his fingers through his coarse hair. “You can do it. You can do anything. You’ve survived Azkaban.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

Remus was silent for a few minutes, not really knowing what to say. His stomach grumbled. “I need to eat. Are you hungry?”

Sirius sighed. “No, but I should eat, too.”

They stumbled into his tiny kitchen. Remus was embarrassed that Sirius was in his flat. He lived in poverty, and his surroundings reflected this. He hadn’t been able to land a legal job since Umbridge slashed werewolf rights.

He surveyed the inside of his fridge, hoping Sirius didn’t notice its emptiness.

“I got enough to make bangers and mash. Sound good?”

“I’ll eat anything.”

Sirius helped fry up the sausages and onions. Remus made the potatoes. 

When they sat down to eat, Remus complimented Sirius on his cooking. Sirius smiled weakly; he was struggling to hold his fork properly.

“Thanks. It took everything in me not to burn it.”

Remus touched his hand. “I appreciate it.”

Sirius nodded and focused on his food. They both were distracted, the weight of the night’s events settling around the table like another dinner guest. 

“I’m in shock.”

Sirius dropped his fork to cover his face. “I can’t stop thinking about what Harry went through tonight. He almost _died_ , and all because of that wheezing traitor!”

“I should’ve let you kill him in the Shack. Some part of this is my fault. I insisted that you explain first.”

“No. You had no way of knowing this was how it’d turn out.”

He suddenly couldn’t eat anymore. “Let’s go to bed.”

His bedroom was as sad as his kitchen. It was just big enough for his bed; they undressed and crawled under the covers, with Remus sandwiched against the wall. 

It was intoxicating having Sirius so close. For years, he’d imagined lying beside Sirius, and now it was reality.

He thought about sex. Voldemort was back, Harry was recovering from tremendous trauma, and Remus couldn’t stop thinking about fucking Sirius. It wasn’t the time, but he ached for it. He’d wanted Sirius for so long; he was tired of mourning his absence. 

Raising himself on an elbow, he stared down at Sirius, not really able to see his expression. He brushed his fingertips over his bristled cheek and chin; he kissed his cold nose, his warm ear. He kissed him on the lips, his tongue trying to coax them apart.

“Remus,” Sirius whispered, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He kissed Remus back as best he could. 

Remus took it slowly, allowing Sirius to set the pace. There was too much teeth and tongue, but he allowed it. He didn’t want Sirius to stop because he was embarrassed.

He pushed down the blanket to mouth over his thin chest; he could tell Sirius was holding his breath. Remus was hard, desperate. He had to control himself.

“Padfoot.” He lapped at his navel, bit his side gently, playfully. Sirius exhaled and slowly began to relax.

Encouraged, he went lower, following soft hair and trembling stomach. He kissed his thighs over and over. Sirius wasn’t hard, and he didn’t know what it meant. He didn’t want to stop.

“Padfoot,” he said again, then took him into his mouth. Sirius cried out, shocked. He sounded like Remus had accidently burned him.

Remus sucked gently, rotating his tongue over his head, but no luck: Sirius remained soft. He looked up. Sirius was crying.

“I’m sorry.”

Remus gathered him into his arms. “Shh. You’re okay. Nothing’s wrong.”

Sirius shook, tears streaming down his face soundlessly. “I’m broken.”

“No. No. You’ll get through this.”

“I’m broken, I’m broken.”

“I love you, Padfoot.” He pressed his lips to Sirius’ hair, breathing him in.

“Tell me again.”

He pulled Sirius closer. “I love you so fucking much.”

“Again,” Sirius whispered.

“I would die for you. I would do anything for you.”

“Please,” Sirius said, and now he was barely audible, “tell me I’m enough.”

“You’re more than enough. You’re the love of my life.”

“Moony.”

Remus kissed his cheek, his nose. “Yes, love?”

“I won’t survive this war.”

Remus flinched, his insides turning cold. “Yes, you will. We both will.”

“Tell me something about your life. Something I missed while in prison.”

He hesitated.

“It doesn’t have to be happy.”

“I was happy sometimes,” he said, laughing softly.

Sirius rested his head on Remus’ chest. “There’s so much I don’t know about you.”

“I worked in a Muggle bookstore for five years.”

“Where?”

“Near my mum’s house. I lived with her for many years after the war.”

“What was it like? Are Muggle books different?”

“Sometimes. They used to not scream or shriek or speak like magical books, but now Muggles use batteries for that.”

“Batteries?”

“Do you remember me explaining electricity?”

“Not really. I know about it. I’ve seen it.”

“Batteries are related to electricity.”

“Muggles put _electricity_ in their books? The same thing that makes lightning?”

“You do remember.”

“Only a little. What else? Were the Muggles nice to you?”

“Mostly. They pitied me because of my scars. I told them I’d been in a terrible car accident and my injuries flared up monthly.”

“Clever boy. Did you go on dates?”

Remus hesitated again. “Yes.”

“With men and women?”

“Just men.”

“Really? I would’ve thought you’d be into both.”

“No.” He tucked some hair behind Sirius’ ear. “Are you into both?”

Sirius frowned. He was thinking hard. “I can’t remember.”

“That’s fine.” He helped Sirius lay back down.

They didn’t speak for a few minutes. Remus wondered if Sirius had finally dozed off.

“Did you love any of these men?” Sirius asked softly.

“No,” Remus said, and inexplicably thought of Snape. He didn’t love Snape, but it’d definitely been the most intense affair. 

“I wished you would’ve found someone else. Someone who could’ve made you happy.”

“It was meant to be. You’re here now.”

“Yes,” Sirius said, but he sounded unsure.

*

One of his greatest regrets was forgetting his last dose of Wolfsbane on the night Sirius returned.

He’d just been so alarmed, so hopeful, when he spotted Peter’s name on the map. Snape had delivered the potion some twenty minutes before, when Remus was in the middle of a disciplinary meeting with a fourth year, but it was left forgotten on the edge of his desk.

Heart pounding, he raced from the castle to the Shrieking Shack, his mind nothing but a hot whirl. _It couldn’t be . . ._

In the Shack, he followed the voices and burst into the room that held Sirius and the children. He was transfixed. After twelve years, Sirius stood before him.

He took the children’s wands and spoke to him: “Where is he, Sirius?”

Sirius pointed to Ron Weasley, and he saw Peter in rat-form, wiggling, desperate to get away.

“But then . . . why hasn’t he shown himself before now?” His mind whirled and whirled, and suddenly it occurred to him. “Unless . . . unless he was the one . . . unless you switched . . . without telling me?”

Sirius nodded. They stared at each other, and for the first time, Remus felt like he was gazing at his old lover.

When they embraced, it felt like he held a dream, an apparition. Sirius was _alive_. Remus almost choked up. _Not in front of the children._

Then Snape announced himself, and it was like a dark comedy. He sneered and brandished his wand, his eyes glittering with delighted hatred. Remus thought of their many showdowns in the Hogwarts corridors as school boys.

Inexplicably, he was reminded of another Jim Reeves song:

_That's how it is with me, and you'll always be, the only love I ever knew. I'll forget many things in my lifetime, but darling, I won't forget you._

*

They spent their first night at Grimmauld Place cleaning out a guest room.

“What about your old bedroom?”

Sirius shook his head. “I’m not ready.”

A skin of dust covered the furniture; the curtains rattled with unseen creatures. The bed creaked underneath them; they slept without touching, the old house whispering throughout the night.

In the morning, Remus awoke to find Sirius on the floor, his face hidden in his knees. 

“What’s wrong?”

Sirius tried to laugh. “I didn’t want to leave the room without you.”

“I’m awake now. Everything’s okay.”

They crept down to the kitchen, feeling like refugees. Remus wanted to call himself a fallout survivor, but he doubted Sirius would get it. Sirius hadn’t grown up terrified of atomic bombs.

It was obvious the kitchen had only been used by house elves. There was no magical cooker, no fridge. There was only a dusty old cauldron suspended in the large fireplace. 

“I remember having a kettle.” Sirius slammed open the cabinets, searching. “Kreacher!” 

A horrible elf appeared. He glowered at them.

“Where’s the kettle?”

“Master invites disgusting creatures into my poor mistress’s home.”

“Kreacher! Answer me!”

“My poor mistress would die a second death if she saw filth like this in her kitchen.”

Sirius pointed his wand at the elf. “Answer me, you senile fool!”

“It’s okay,” Remus said, “we don’t need the kettle.”

“Get out of my sight!” Sirius yelled.

Kreacher bowed low and disappeared with a pop.

Remus retrieved a few dusty cups and cleaned them up with his wand. He dropped a serving of tea leaves into each, then produced boiling water using magic. 

“Good thinking,” Sirius said, but he was frowning. “I haven’t used proper magic for such a long time that I forget sometimes.”

Remus nodded. When the leaves were done seeping, he Vanished them and handed Sirius his tea. 

“Now if only we had something to eat,” Sirius said.

“I know I have some crisps in my truck, but we should ask Molly to bring over some food.”

Sirius sighed. “Yes.”

Molly arrived an hour later with a trunk full of food and pots and pans. Sirius watched her take over the kitchen, frowning.

“Oh, dear,” she said. “This is quite the mess.”

“We’ll start on the parlor while you’re in here,” Remus said.

“Yes, of course. I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”

Remus took Sirius’s arm and pulled him upstairs. The parlor was a mess as well. They hesitated on the threshold, afraid to look at anything closely.

“What’s the chance that some of these items are cursed?” Remus asked.

“Let’s just assume they are all cursed.” Sirius sighed. “We need to get Moody over here.”

“Do you think he’s well enough to help us?”

Sirius raised his eyebrow. “I don’t think Moody’s the kind to take a holiday.”

Remus went to the Floo, or what he thought was the Floo. “Do you think this still works?”

“They last for centuries. Can’t imagine why it wouldn’t.”

He blew the dust off a canister of Floo powder. Sirius lit a fire with his wand. When the flames were hot enough, Remus added the powder and called, “Alastor Moody!”

They stuck their heads in the fireplace. The connection was faulty.

“It needs to be cleaned,” Sirius said.

Moody answered. “On the night of March 1, 1980, what did I say to Lupin outside the Hogs Head?”

Remus frowned. “Err . . . Happy Birthday?”

“Too easy! We need to work on these questions.”

“Do you remember what I said to you at the same time and location?” Sirius asked.

Moody thought for a moment, his blue eye whirling in its socket. “No. I was too pissed.” He grinned just a little.

“How are you holding up?” Remus asked.

“Well, it was my third time being held hostage, so at this point I’m used to it. What can I do for you?”

“We need help cleaning up, well, you know.”

“Ah, yes. To prepare for the party.” Moody checked the time with his blue eye. “I’ll be over within the hour.”

“Ta,” Remus said.

When Moody arrived, he spent a good thirty minutes hobbling around the parlor, his magical eye going crazy. 

“Yes,” he said finally. “Nearly every drawer, cabinet, and corner contains some form of dark magic.”

“What should we do?”

Moody produced three instruments from his large coat. They looked like Deluminators. “Magic Lighters. They dissolve dark magic. Take one and go over every surface slowly. Don’t open anything. Avoid the curtains.”

They did as they were told, the small metal instruments humming in their hands. A cushioned chair hissed at Remus when he got too close.

The next day, Moody returned with his sleeves rolled up and his coat nowhere in sight. 

“Let’s focus on the boggarts today.” He looked at Remus. “The house might have hundreds.”

Remus nodded. “They multiply quickly when left to their own devices.” He glanced at Sirius, not knowing if he was strong enough to face down a boggart.

“I’m fine.” Sirius read his mind. “I can do it.”

Moody listened to a dark cabinet that rattled faintly. “Do you remember what your mum stored in here?”

Sirius shook his head. “A lot of it was old family heirlooms. Dusty, brittle. Nothing I had interest in.”

“Want to take the first one?” Moody asked Remus.

Remus stepped forward. “Of course.”

Moody Spelled open the cabinet and the boggart, encountering Remus, transformed into the moon.

“ _Riddikulus_!”

The boggart nearly burst, but then rounded on Moody and became a broad old woman in thick glasses and robes with little tassels hanging from the sleeves.

“Alastor!” The boggart chided in a waspy voice. “You are nothing but a disappointment to me. After everything your father and I have done -”

“ _Riddikulus_!” Moody turned to Sirius. “Go now! Hurry!”

Sirius stepped forward, his wand raised. The woman grew tall, her robes dissolving into black mist. It was a dementor.

Sirius fumbled. His eyes widened, the spell on his lips. He began to shake as the dementor drifted closer, its gaping mouth opening wide. 

“ _Riddik_ -”

“Hurry! It’s gaining strength!” Moody said.

“ _Riddik_ -”

Remus stepped in front of him, unable to watch him struggle. “ _Riddikulus_!” The boggart burst into wispy smoke. 

Sirius hurried from the room, his feet loud on the stairs. A moment later a door slammed. 

Someone was screaming. For a second, Remus thought it was Sirius, but no, it was a woman’s voice.

“Bloody hell.” Moody looked around, his wand raised.

They followed the sound and found a portrait of an old woman screaming, her eyes rolling. She glanced at Moody, then Remus, and screamed louder. “Filth! Filth in my home!”

“And I thought I had mummy problems,” Moody said.

Remus examined the woman. Even with her hysterics, he recognized the similarities between mother and son. 

“This explains a lot,” he said.

“Goodnight,” Moody said, and drew the curtains back over the portrait. The house was tomb-like quiet again. 

There were footsteps. Molly emerged from the kitchen stairs. “What was all that noise? Is someone hurt?”

“No, just a portrait,” Remus said.

“A _portrait_?” She clutched at her chest. “This place is a disaster.”

Moody grunted. “I need a tea break.”

“Tea’s ready in the kitchen,” Molly said.

“I’ll be down once I check on Sirius.” Remus went upstairs, but didn’t find Sirius in their guest room. He paused, listening for sound. Low murmurs came from a room at the end of the corridor. 

The door was slightly open. Through the crack, he saw Sirius kneeling before a giant Hippogriff. He pressed his forehead to its feathers, his lips moving quietly.

Remus backed away. He was interrupting something private. He’d no idea how Sirius had even gotten the creature into the house.

*

That night, Remus was getting ready for bed when Sirius emerged from the bathroom, his wet hair dripping down his back. He joined Remus in bed.

“We have the house to ourselves,” Sirius said with a grin.

“Except for Kreacher.”

“Sod him.” Sirius kissed his hand, his wrist. “Will you shag me?”

Remus looked away, his heart thumping. He didn’t understand where this was coming from. “Don’t you think it’s too soon? We should wait until you’ve gotten used to living here again.”

“No. I’ve waited long enough. I want you now.”

“We don’t have to do it. You’ve had a tough day.”

“Damnit! I don’t want you pushing me away!”

“I’m not - I just don’t want to make you feel like you have to shag me.”

“You need to stop pitying me!”

Remus gritted his teeth. He didn’t speak right away. “I don’t want to pity you. I also don’t want to make you uncomfortable. You cried the last time -”

“I knew you’d bring that up,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “I was overwhelmed. Voldemort had just returned.”

“Yes, I understand.” He ran his hands through Sirius’ hair, trying to comb through the knots. “I love you. I want to help your . . . recovery, not make it harder.”

Sirius held his wet hands. He looked at Remus intently. “I want to suck your cock.” 

Remus kissed him softly on the lips. Sirius didn’t make a sound. He deepened the kiss, wanting them to take their time exploring each other. Sirius tried kissing him back, but his coordination was all wrong. 

“All right?” Remus whispered.

“Yeah, I’m just out of practice.”

“Oh, Padfoot.” He urged Sirius to lean back against the pillows, then crawled over to straddle him. He ran his hands over his thin, heaving chest. He tried to pull off his shirt but was stopped. 

“I’m not what you remember.”

“I don’t want to shag a teenager.” Remus tried to kiss him again, but Sirius turned his face.

“I’m not beautiful anymore.”

Remus caught his breath. He didn’t know what to say to make it right. 

“I think you are beautiful.”

Sirius laughed. “You’ve always been too kind.”

Hesitating, Remus pulled off his own shirt. He still had on his vest top, but some of his worst scars were visible.

“Can I?” Sirius thumbed the vest. Together, they revealed Remus’ destroyed chest. Sirius touched the mass of scarring at his navel. “Oh, love.”

“See? There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about.”

“Merlin, I love you.” Sirius lapped at his scars, his tongue warm, his fingers gentle. Remus couldn’t look away. He let Sirius remove the rest of his clothes, then guide him onto his back.

“I’ve missed your cock.” Sirius brushed his knuckles over his thighs, the small of his stomach. Remus was only a little hard.

“Can I taste you?”

“Yes.”

Sirius took him into his mouth, and Remus’ head dropped back. Sirius was hesitant, his teeth getting in the way, but, fuck, it felt good to harden against his wet tongue.

“Oh,” Remus said.

Sirius pulled back. “I’m mucking this up.”

“No, no.” He buried his hand in Sirius’ hair. “Please.”

Sirius took him back into his mouth, sucking a little. Remus couldn’t look away. After fourteen years, he was inside Sirius again. He thrust too deeply and Sirius pulled back, gagging.

“Sorry, sorry!”

Remus shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I can’t handle it.” He placed Sirius’ hand on his shaft. “Stroke me. Do anything you want to me.”

Together, they watched Sirius stroke him. He’d forgotten Sirius’ hands were delicate, fine-boned. 

“Spit on it,” Remus said, wanting more of Sirius on him.

Sirius lapped at his head, then let some drool escape his lips. “Like that?”

“Taste me. Get me wet with your mouth.”

Sirius dragged his tongue up and down; he dipped lower to suck his bollocks. Remus fisted the sheets, determined to control himself. There was something about men with their mouths full of his bollocks that made him possessive, rough. Past lovers knew only to do it when they wanted their mouths fucked hard, but Sirius didn’t know this.

“Tell me you like it,” Sirius said hoarsely. He kissed back up Remus’ shaft, again whirling his tongue around the head.

“Please,” Remus said, not wanting to force anything, but so, so desperate to be in his mouth.

“Anything.”

“Open for me. Let me fuck you.”

Closing his eyes, Sirius opened his mouth wide. Remus thrusts were shallow, careful. God, he needed more. He buried his hands in his hair again, tugging a little. 

“Pinch my thigh if you want me to stop.”

Sirius nodded, his mouth full.

Remus forced him lower, trapping his head. He quickened his thrusts. Fuck. This was probably too much for him, but he wanted to be open about what he liked during sex.

He withdrew a little, letting Sirius catch his breath.

“All right?”

Sirius nodded quickly. 

“Good.” Remus urged him back down. He thrust hard, too desperate to slow himself. He was twenty years old again and had the whole world at his fingertips. He wasn’t scarred deeply; he didn’t flinch at his own reflection. 

Sirius was making sound, his tongue doing its best to lap, his throat clicking. Remus held him down and fucked him, over and over. 

He chanted his name: _Sirius, Sirius, Sirius_. He was going to come. He was going to choke Sirius with his come. 

Distantly, he knew he needed to be more aware of how Sirius was experiencing this, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t. He was losing control, his bollocks tight, his toes curling. Fuck, fuck -

He came, gritting his teeth, forcing Sirius to take it all. Sirius was still making sound, but Remus didn’t know if it was moaning.

Falling back on the bed, he finally let go of his head. Sirius came up, his mouth red, his chin soaked. 

“Fuck, Remus.” He laughed hoarsely.

Remus breathed hard. “Are you okay? I -”

“I’m fine.”

“Come here.” Smiling, he dropped his hand to Sirius’ trousers. He rubbed, wanting to feel his arousal. 

Sirius hissed and drew back. He wasn’t hard. “Just give me time.”

“Did you . . . enjoy yourself?”

“Yes! Please - I want to do this again. Just be patient with me.”

“Of course,” Remus said, trying not to take his lack of arousal personally. He could wait. He could.

*

The Order meetings were long and tedious; sometimes they accomplished good things, made firm decisions, but usually they went around in circles until everyone felt like they’d been properly heard.

Remus spent the hours avoiding Snape’s gaze. Snape had the habit of choosing the chair right across from him, which made him ball up his hands under the table. 

When others weren’t looking, Snape stared at him, his eyes glinting with hatred. Remus shifted in his seat and tried to look back casually, but it was disconcerting. Snape vibrated with so much angry, pent up magic that he was surprised Snape hadn’t accidently set him on fire.

Sirius liked to be next to Dumbledore at the end of the table, which was just fine with Remus. He liked giving Sirius space when they were with the Order. 

They were a few meetings in before Dumbledore got around to telling them about the prophecy. 

“Voldemort is desperate for what’s inside the prophecy,” Dumbledore said.

“Well, stop the suspense,” Moody said. “What does it say?”

“I can only guess,” Dumbledore said.

Sirius frowned. “There must’ve been rumors. How did Voldemort hear about it in the first place?”

“I’m told a follower overheard the prophecy, but this is only speculation and we should take it as such.”

Snape stared blank-faced at Dumbledore. “We will have to guard it at all hours of the day. We must be prepared to die protecting it.”

“Obviously,” Sirius said from the end of the table. “It’s not like we’ll have a sleep while on duty.”

“ _We_? How sad of you to include yourself. We all know you can’t leave these walls.”

Sirius glared but didn’t say anything.

“Strategy is top priority,” Kingsley said. “Fudge and Umbridge run the place now. We can’t be too careful.” He addressed the whole table, but everyone knew he was alerting Mundungus.

“It’s going to be tricky guarding something in the Department of Mysteries when Fudge is determined to be a stupid coward,” Tonks said.

“Could we disguise ourselves?” Remus asked.

Arthur frowned. “Perhaps, but as a current employee of the Ministry, I wouldn’t be comfortable with that.” 

“They might let us do it without disguises if we ask nicely,” Kingsley said.

“Fudge? Are you sure?” Sirius asked.

Dumbledore listened to them in silence. “We could use a cloak to disguise us.”

“An Invisibility Cloak?” Snape asked.

“I’ve got a few we could use,” Moody said, “though they’re not as powerful as others.”

“Perfect!” Dumbledore turned to Arthur. “Would you use an Invisibility Cloak?”

Arthur thought about it. “Yes, I’d be fine with that.”

“Me too,” Tonks said. “I’ve been dying to get my hands on one of Moody’s cloaks.”

“Talk to Podmore,” Moody said. “He’s got my best one.”

“Our other priority needs to be protecting Harry while he lives with his Muggle relatives,” Dumbledore said.

“Why can’t we just bring him here?” Kingsley said.

Dumbledore shook his head. “He must live with them over the summer. This is not the time to explain why.”

Sirius opened and closed his mouth. It was obvious he was desperate to volunteer. 

“No,” Dumbledore said.

“But no one will know if I’m a dog. Harry might see me, but that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

“Harry shouldn’t see you. Harry shouldn’t know he’s being watched. He needs time to recover, to clear his head.”

“Of course I’ll do it,” Tonks said.

Kingsley nodded. “I’m sure most of us will need to do it.”

“I cannot,” Snape said. “It’s imperative that I remain at Hogwarts.”

Sirius banged his fist on the table. “Oh, come on!”

Dumbledore held up his hand. “Enough. I will expect everyone to sign up for rotations except for Sirius and Severus.”

“What about Remus?” Tonks said, trying to be helpful.

“Are you referencing my lycanthropy? If so, I’m more than willing to help guard Harry and the prophecy; I will just need some downtime before and after the full moon.” He rarely spoke so openly about his condition, and the table was quiet. 

Snape was staring at him again.

“Good man,” Kingsley said. 

“Very well.” Dumbledore smiled.

After the meeting, Remus approached Dumbledore. 

“Pardon, sir. I was just wondering if you had any thoughts about British werewolf packs.”

“Ah, yes. I was wondering when you’d bring them up.”

“I don’t mean to be a bother.”

“No, no. It’s good that you are already thinking about them. We both know that Voldemort will try to persuade them, but something tells me we should wait before approaching them. We don’t want to come across as too desperate, too manipulative. You understand.”

Remus frowned. “But what if Voldemort gets to them first?”

“Oh, he will, especially with Fenrir at his side. As you remember, they like to play us off each other. Therefore, let him approach the packs first. Perhaps then we will know their stipulations.”

“Right,” he said, disappointed. He wasn’t sure if this was the right move, but he didn’t let this show on his face. “Thank you, sir.”

He said goodbye to the rest of the members and went up to bed. He paused in the middle of undressing. On his bedside table was a steaming goblet with a note: _Wolfsbane. Take it daily. More will be delivered when necessary_.

Remus recognized the handwriting. He wanted to dump the whole thing down the toilet, but he wasn’t stupid. Wolfsbane was invaluable to him; he’d drink it even if it came from Voldemort himself.

He imagined Snape sneaking up here to drop it off. Two people obviously slept in the bed; their trousers were wrapped together on the floor. He was surprised Snape could stomach seeing the evidence of them living together.

Plugging his nose, he swallowed some of the muddy concoction. A gulp per day should do the trick. He grimaced at the taste, smacking his lips. Maybe it was poisoned.

*

As spring turned to summer, Remus and Sirius spent day after day cleaning up Grimmauld Place. It was a slow process. Sirius’ mum had definitely been a hoarder, and nearly everything they encountered held traces of dark magic.

Remus felt bad when he Apparated to Surrey or the Ministry. He knew it killed Sirius to be left behind, but there was no other option. Sirius would jeopardize himself and the Order if he left the house. This took a toll on him, and he spent the hours after dinner alone with Buckbeak. 

A full moon came and went. Remus was grateful that he had Wolfsbane and Sirius to ease the transformation, but it was hard on the wolf to be stuck inside. 

“Now you know how I feel,” Sirius grumbled when Remus tried to explain the wolf’s agitation. 

Remus took his head. “Remember: You won’t be any good to Harry locked up again.”

*

Moody and Molly continued their work at Grimmauld Place. Remus had learned to leave them alone while he and Sirius tackled another part of the house.

They focused on the bedrooms. It wasn’t smart to battle dark magic with the door closed, but he didn’t want anyone see Sirius struggling. Sometimes he was quite good at the spells, usually when Harry was on his mind, but other times he could barely cast a _Lumos_.

“Help me, professor,” Sirius said.

Remus rolled his eyes. “You don’t need my help. You just need to stop doubting yourself.”

“Sometimes it’s hard for me to ignore my head.” Sirius twirled his wand between his fingers. 

They were in another guest room, the dusty curtains opened to let in the warm sunlight, which was the best defense against dark magic. 

Antiques huddled in the corners, two midnight blue chaises nearly stacked on top of one other. The bed was large with a ratty duvet and hard pillows. Thick dust covered the candelabrum on the bedside table like mold. 

A black ornate cabinet rattled with multiple boggarts. Remus waited for Sirius to take the lead.

Breathing deeply, Sirius raised his wand. “Ready?”

“Yes,” he said softly.

Sirius opened the door and the first boggart swept out like mist. They backed away, already knowing what was next.

The dementor rose to its full height, its skeletal hands reaching for them. 

“Hold your ground,” Remus said calmly. He thought of little Neville Longbottom. 

“Yes, this is easy,” Sirius said to himself.

“It’s not real. Don’t let yourself believe.”

“Right.” Sirius lifted his wand, his eyes a little crazed. The dementor advanced. Hand shaking, teeth gritted, he stuttered: “ _Riddikulus_!”

“Focus! Try again!”

“I can’t! I’m pathetic!”

“Focus, damnit!” 

“Fuck - fuck - _Riddikulus_!”

“Again! It’s weakening!”

“ _Riddikulus_!” he bellowed, and the boggart exploded.

“Again! Here comes another one.”

“I can’t - I need a moment -”

“ _You can_. Do it.”

Sweating, Sirius stepped forward to meet the boggart before it fully transformed. “ _Riddikulus_!”

“You did it, love! Here’s the last one!”

Sirius didn’t hesitate. “ _Riddikulus_!” 

Remus rushed forward to check the cabinet. Yes, they were all gone. He turned around, grinning. 

“You’re brilliant!”

Sirius was breathing hard. “I did it.”

There was intense energy between them. Remus moved forward, needing to touch him. He crowded Sirius against the wall and kissed him deeply without hesitation. Sirius opened to him, his tongue warm, urgent. Remus groaned.

“You’re so fucking powerful.” Remus trapped him against the wall and moved his hips against his, staring into his eyes. 

Sirius was flushed and panting. “Moony.”

“I want your cock.”

Sirius turned his face, thrusting a little. 

“I want it. Are you going to let me have it?”

Sirius nodded.

“Say it.”

“You can have it,” Sirius whispered.

“Have what?”

“My cock.”

 _Good boy_ , he wanted to say. He unbuttoned Sirius’ trousers and was delighted to see that he was hard. He eased his pants over his erection, staring, his mouth suddenly dry. It’d been so long since he’d seen Sirius this aroused. 

He stroked Sirius, feeling him jerk in his palm. Sirius gasped and thrust, his eyes closed.

“You love my hand on your pretty cock.”

“Moony.”

He muttered a lube spell to get it all wet for him. He quickened his stroking, twisting his hand, swiping his thumb over the head. Sirius was so hard for him, leaking like he was on the edge.

“Moony,” he moaned, and his eyes opened. “Oh, fuck -”

Sirius came suddenly, violently. There was so much semen. He was still thrusting when he started apologizing.

“I’m sorry - fuck. I’m stupid -”

Remus dropped to his knees to clean his cock with his tongue. He took the head into his mouth, suckling, his eyes burning. Sirius shuddered and tried to speak. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Remus said, lapping at his softening flesh.

Sirius dragged him to his feet. He licked his chin, tasting himself. “I love you.”

Remus peppered his face in kisses. “You’re so strong and talented. You’re perfect, so perfect.”

*

When Remus wasn’t guarding Harry or the prophecy, he was instructing Sirius on dueling technique and defensive spells. He’d mastered _Riddikulus_ , but there were still times when his magic faltered.

The more Remus thought about it, the more it made sense that Sirius struggled with his spellwork. He hadn’t used his wand for twelve years in Azkaban, then there had been few opportunities to use his wand while on the run. Casting magic would’ve definitely alerted any witch or wizard nearby.

There were good and bad days. Remus knew a day would be difficult if Sirius fretted about Harry. He was guilty about not being able to guard him like the rest of the Order. It killed his confidence when he was reminded that, if anything were to happen to Harry, he’d be far away, trapped inside his dark childhood home.

Remus gave him space. He kissed him in the morning and right before bed. He touched his chest when they were alone in a corridor. Neither of them initiated sex, which Remus told himself was okay. It was a stressful time. They had the rest of their lives to shag.

*

One day in August, Sirius approached him in a hurry. “Have you heard?”

Remus frowned. “What’s happened?”

“It’s Harry - the Ministry wants to nab him for fighting off a dementor in front of Muggles.”

“He had to fight them off _again_?”

“Yeah - obviously, they were sent by Voldemort, but the Ministry would never acknowledge it. The poor boy has a target on his back. They’ve expelled him from Hogwarts.”

“ _What?_ ”

Sirius suppressed a grin. “They’ve scheduled a hearing, but it’s not looking good for him, is it?”

“This is terrible! The boy needs to go to school!”

“Does he? With the war heating up, it might be better just to keep him here. We could teach him loads more than they could at Hogwarts.”

Remus gaped. “His life would be ruined!”

“No, it wouldn’t! Once we won the war, everyone would understand why he left school.”

“Be reasonable! We can’t let them kick him out.”

Sirius shrugged.

The door swung open and Snape strode inside the parlour. He looked at Remus. “Dumbledore needs you and a few others to retrieve Potter from his Muggle relatives.”

Sirius stood. “I’ll go, too.”

Snape smiled coldly. “Dumbledore gave specific instructions for you to remain here.”

“I bet you just love that you got to be the one to tell me that.”

“Love? No. Highly enjoyed? Yes.”

“One day we’ll resolve this like proper wizards!” Sirius brandished his wand.

“Take care of your dog, Lupin. He’s wetting the carpet.” 

“The only one causing trouble is you,” Remus said.

Snape leered at him. “You call this trouble? I’m just getting started.”

Remus made his face go blank. They both knew he hadn’t told Sirius about them sleeping together, but he refused to be intimidated by him. “What trouble are you planning? Please enlighten us.”

“All in good time.” Snape left.

*

The mood in Grimmauld Place changed with the arrival of the children. Thankfully Dumbledore had been able to get all charges against Harry dropped, which made Remus sigh in relief and Sirius pout in open. This made Remus uncomfortable, but he decided to ignore it. Sirius was lonely. He wanted James’ son by his side.

With the children around, Remus slept in another guest room and pretended as if he were only visiting. The Order all accepted that they were a couple, but Molly frowned when he showed affection to Sirius in front of the children. He also did it to make things easier for himself. The last thing he needed was Harry looking blankly at him while he tried to explain why he slept in the same bed as Sirius. 

Molly became more erratic about how the Order conducted themselves. Sirius was disgruntled, territorial. He wanted Harry to be impressed by his authority, his strength. He didn’t appreciate Molly undermining him at every turn. Secretly, Remus thought she made some good points about protecting Harry from the slow burning war, but he kept these thoughts mostly to himself. In his fragile state, Sirius needed an ally, not another naysayer. 

To make matters worse, Tonks seemed to have developed a bit of a crush on Remus. She made a habit of sitting next to him during Order meetings, touching his arm whenever she spoke to him. Of course, Snape noticed immediately. He glowered at her like she personally had birthed Voldemort into existence. 

Once, after a somewhat short meeting, Molly insisted that they all stay for dinner. Surprisingly, Snape stuck around as well.

Remus was awkward, a bit tense, while everyone ate. Sirius kept shooting Molly glares, and Snape ate slowly, methodically, like the meaning of life was hidden in his mashed potatoes.

“Remus told me the funniest joke the other day,” Tonks said, grasping his arm. “I think it involved a hag and a teapot.”

“It was a terrible joke,” he said, not really remembering. “I never intend to be funny. It just happens.”

“That’s the best kind of humor,” Kingsley said. 

“No matter! It was still hilarious.” She grinned at Remus, her eyes twinkling. “Living with wolf packs. Traveling the world. I bet you know so many naughty jokes. You know, the kinds that’d make nans faint.”

“All right, let’s change topics!” Molly said.

“No, Remus, please go on,” Sirius said. “Tell everyone how naughty you can be.”

“I would, but there’s just not enough hours left in the day.”

The table broke out in snorts and muffled laughter.

Molly set down her fork. “This is a proper dinner, with _proper_ conversation! Leave the filth in the bedroom.”

“Now, Molly, this is still my house.” Sirius glared at her again. “I get to decide what people can talk about.”

“Who wants dessert?” she said loudly.

When the Bakewell tart was served, Remus, to smooth things over, said, “Merlin, Molly. This is amazing.”

“Thank you, dear,” she said, brighting.

He wasn’t lying. The tart was delicious; he had no idea how she made her toasted almonds so crispy, so sweet, without overdoing it. He finished his slice in three bites.

“Hold on,” Tonks said, leaning close, “you’ve got some jam on your mouth.” She wiped the corner of his lip with her thumb.

When she looked back at her tart, the whole thing exploded in her face.

“Christ!” Remus immediately looked at Snape across the table, who was smiling with delight.

“No, it’s okay.” Tonks laughed as she wiped the jam and frangipane from her eyes. “These things tend to happen to me. It’s probably my metamorphic magic.”

At the end of dinner, Snape thanked Molly and quickly headed for the door. Remus followed as he spoke to Kingsley. In the parlour, he waited for the perfect moment to shoot an unsticking charm on a midsize tapestry. It fell and landed on Snape’s head. Snape squawked and jerked around to see what had attacked him. He glared at the tapestry, then at Remus and Kingsley.

“Bad luck,” Kingsley said. “How’s your head?”

Snape smoothed down his robes, sneering. “I’m fine.” He left quickly. 

Kingsley eyed Remus. “My only question is: Why does he not like Tonks?”

“You’re very observant,” Remus said. 

“I’m just paying attention.” 

Remus was shouldering too much not to speak to Tonks. After the next meeting, she invited him to have a drink with her. He agreed.

At the pub, before they’d even ordered, he told her the truth.

“I’m in love with Sirius. I’ve been in love with him since we were children.”

“Oh,” she said, disappointed. “I thought you two had broken up.”

He blinked. “Why?”

She shrugged. “People talk. You’re distant with each other.”

“Only when we’re around others.”

“Well, this is awkward.” She laughed. “Do you still want that pint?”

He smiled. “I don’t drink.”

“You should’ve said something! Let’s get Thai!”

They went down the street to a Thai restaurant. Remus hesitated.

“Oh, come on!” Tonks said, reaching for his arm but then stopping herself. “Live a little.”

“I have a sensitive stomach,” he said, half joking.

She pulled him into the restaurant by his sleeve. The place was quite busy, but they got a table in the corner. “I’ll order for us,” she said, then turned to the waiter. “Pad Thai and Massaman Curry, please.”

He brighted. “I like curry.”

“Good.”

He smiled blandly as they waited for their meals. Tonks played with the tablecloth and napkins. She glanced at a woman a few tables over.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asked, leaning closer.

“Okay.” He braced himself. 

“Not many men catch my fancy.” She eyed his hair. “I have a weakness for blondes.”

He frowned. “I’m not blond.”

“You’re close enough.” She smiled and motioned at the woman near them. “Like her. She’s my type.”

Still frowning, he looked at the woman. “Yes, she’s definitely blonde. You should talk to her.”

Tonks blushed faintly. “No, I couldn’t. These things need to be planned.”

“No, they don’t! Just talk to her.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You asked me for a drink.”

“Yeah, but that was after _weeks_. I - what if I do something clumsy?” 

“Perhaps she’ll find it endearing.”

Tonks stared at him. “Do you find it endearing?”

“Yes. I think most of my mates are endearing.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll stop making you uncomfortable.” She sighed and sat back. “I’ll talk to her when we leave.”

“What if she leaves before you? Just do it now.” 

“Merlin.” She stood, hesitating. She walked over to the woman and smiled. 

Remus turned away from their interaction, thinking of Sirius. He wondered if he should bring back takeaway for him, but then thought better of it. Sirius didn’t need to be reminded of the things he was missing.

*

The children returned to Hogwarts, and Remus returned to sleeping in the same bed as Sirius. Many nights he fell asleep alone, for Sirius remained in his mum’s room with Buckbeak, and it was only much later when he crept to bed.

Remus reached for Sirius, wanting to feel his warmth, the solid reality of his presence. Sirius pressed his mouth to his hair, murmuring. He smelled like bird.

Months passed. Death Eaters made quiet attempts to steal the prophecy. Order meetings continued, but no one could come up with a better way to protect the prophecy and Harry. Sirius fretted about his safety at school. The Ministry was committed to making his life hell. 

“We’re just supposed to sit back and allow that _bitch_ to mistreat him?” Sirius said.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said. 

Snape missed meetings. He seemed surlier, more overwhelmed. Remus saw it in his body: the strategizing, the masks. Remus wondered if he was sleeping. 

Then, close to Christmas, Arthur was attacked. Remus went with the children to visit him at St Mungo’s. It shadowed the entire holiday, and he struggled to remain positive in front of Harry and his friends.

Dumbledore asked Snape to teach Harry Occlumency, which infuriated Sirius. He confronted Snape about it with Harry present. Remus thought this was a terrible idea. Harry already hated Snape; he didn’t need Sirius encouraging his disdain.

Remus wasn’t in the room when this happened, but he saw the aftermath. Sirius, trembling, muttering, paced their bedroom. “Dumbledore’s a fool!” he cried. “He has no idea what’s best for Harry!” Remus didn’t think the lessons were a good idea either, but he leaned against the wall and attempted to calm Sirius down. 

“We’ve got to trust his judgment.”

“Yes, but the man has blind spots, and Snape is one of them!”

“He trusts Snape. We’ve got to accept that.”

“I refuse to make the same mistake again! Snape will not betray us like Wormtail!”

“Then we keep our eyes open. It’s okay to be suspicious. But we can’t lose faith in Dumbledore.”

Sirius slumped on the bed. “You’re right,” he said after a moment. Remus tried to come closer, but he held up his hand, trembling with tension. “No. I need to be alone. Is that okay?”

“Of course.” Remus left the room.

*

A few weeks after their showdown, Snape cornered Sirius and Remus in the parlour after a meeting.

“Have you finally overcome your fear of the dangerous boggart, Black?”

To Remus’ relief, Sirius laughed. 

“Almost. My problem is that it keeps turning into your ugly face.”

“I terrify you? How pathetic.”

“Just your nose.” Sirius faked a shudder. “What do you do on dates? Let it speak for you?”

“My nose was good enough for Lupin.”

Sirius blinked. 

Remus closed his eyes. He’d known it was only a matter of time before Snape brought this up, but he didn’t understand why _now_.

“Oh, no.” Snape put a hand to his chest. “Lupin hasn’t told you.”

“Told me what?” Sirius jerked toward Remus. “What don’t I know?”

Remus took a deep breath. He didn’t know how to explain.

Snape laughed. “Let’s just say you aren’t the only one who’s been in Lupin’s bed.”

Sirius charged from the parlour. Remus wanted to go after him, but he could tell by the tension in his shoulders that he was on the brink of an outburst.

“Oops,” Snape said, and tried to head for the Floo. Remus pulled him into a small study and shut the door.

“What the fuck, Snape?”

Snape threw off his grip and laughed at him. “Do you really think I’d play nice?”

“I’d hope you wouldn’t be a psychotic twat!”

“I only spoke the truth.”

“You had no business telling him!”

“I was doing him a favor. It’s obvious you’ll spread your legs for anyone.”

“That’s the story you’re going with? I fucked you fourteen years ago, so therefore I’m a slag?”

Snape shrugged. “I gave you money and you bent over for me. Isn’t that what a whore does?”

“Oh, I understand now. You’re confused. Only whores have been willing to put up with you, so you think I’m one, too.”

Snape bared his teeth. “You know nothing about my love life.”

“Nobody does. It doesn’t exist.”

“Say another word and I’ll Hex you.”

Remus tried to calm himself. “What you did was inconceivable. Sirius is valuable to the Order, and you just set his recovery back months.”

“What I did had nothing to do with the war.”

“Then why the fuck did you do it?”

Snape stared him down. His eyes glittered with so much hatred that Remus flinched.

“Black doesn’t get to have you. He might be innocent of all those murders, but I refuse to sit back and watch him win.”

Remus was speechless. How could someone be so delusional?

Snape headed for the door. Remus turned, suddenly finding his voice.

“I just have one request.”

Snape paused, his hand on the doorknob. 

“Please only hoard photographs of me from when I was young. Not too young, mind you. I can’t bear the thought of you wanking to a picture of me and my mum.”

Yelling, Snape slashed his wand through the air and Remus fell back, a whip mark across his face.

“I hope you both burn in hell.” Snape flung open the door and left. 

Remus stumbled to the toilet to inspect his face. He healed himself easily, but his skin was still tender. He stared at his scarred reflection, not understanding why people could be infatuated with him. He’d be average looking without all the scars. With them, he looked deformed. He sighed and went to look for Sirius.

*

He found Sirius in the library. He clutched a book in his lap, but it was obvious he wasn’t reading.

“Sirius -” he began, not sure how he’d explain himself.

Sirius laughed, not meeting his eyes. “I understand now why you’ve been so distant.”

“What do you mean?”

He set down the book and stood. “You’ve been too busy shagging Snape to pay me any attention.”

“Snape and I haven’t slept together in years.”

“Why should I believe that?”

“Because you should believe me over Snivellus.”

Sirius held up his hand. “No. You don’t get to call him that. Not when you’ve fucked him.”

Remus was doing his best to stay calm, but it was difficult. It hurt him deeply that Sirius so easily believed he was a cheater. 

“After the first war, I was a mess. I was lonely. I slept with Snape a few times, but it was a mistake. It didn’t mean anything.”

“If it didn’t mean anything, why does he continue to make you Wolfsbane? Oh, you thought I didn’t notice?”

“You never said anything.”

“I didn’t say anything because I’m an idiot! I wanted to believe you still loved me!”

Remus closed his eyes. “I do still love you.”

“Impossible!” Sirius made a sudden movement, which made Remus open his eyes. He had his own shirt balled his fists, nearly tearing the fabric. “How can anyone love me when I’m this fucked up?”

“Sirius.” His voice cracked. “Please.”

“I’m broken! I’m useless to the Order and I’m useless to you! The only reason you stick around is because you _pity_ me.”

“No! That’s not true! If you knew how hard it was for me when you were in Azkaban.” Remus covered his mouth, afraid he’d shriek.

“It was only because you thought I was a murderer. Obviously you did quite well for yourself. Shagging blokes, stealing whatever you needed.”

“Stop it. You’re ruining me.”

“Sometimes the truth hurts!” Sirius turned his back to him.

Remus gasped, trying to calm himself down. It would only make things worse if he became hysterical.

“I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you,” he said quietly.

“Apologies aren’t necessary.”

Remus came closer. “I don’t think you’re useless. I think you’re brave. You’ve been through a lot and I want to see you become the man you were meant to be.”

“You want to see me in a grave!”

“No - how could you -”

Sirius jerked around. “That’s my destiny! Can’t you feel it? I was never meant to survive. I should’ve died like James, young and fighting for what I believed in!”

“ _James_ has been dead for years. Stop living in the goddamn past!” Remus breathed hard, suddenly unable to swallow down his anger.

“He’s the only one who has never betrayed me!”

“How dare you -! I’ve never betrayed you!”

“You fucked Snape! A Death Eater! That’s pretty much the ultimate betrayal.”

“You were gone!” Remus was shouting. “You want to talk about betrayal? You charged off to kill Peter without even thinking about me. You didn’t care what your actions did to me.”

“He’d just gotten my best friend murdered!”

“And what was I? Just an acquaintance? Just a bloke you shagged?”

“James and I had a special bond! You know that!”

“You must think I was born yesterday. Well, I’ve known loads of gay men, and let me tell you: We all know what that ‘special bond’ really means.”

Sirius gaped at him. He looked stunned, like Remus had just stabbed him in the stomach. 

“I never - we never -”

Hot tears streamed down Remus’ face. He wiped them away, angry at himself for crying. What he said next hurt him so much he could barely speak.

“You always loved him more than me.”

“No - it was never like that -”

“Only because James didn’t want it.”

Sirius backed away. He was shaking his head, his eyes wide. It was like Remus pointed a Muggle gun at him, finger on the trigger. Remus held his fate in his hands. 

“I need to be alone. Don’t follow me.” Sirius rushed from the library.

Remus was left, breathing hard, his mind flashing. “God damnit!” He punched himself in the thigh. This was exactly what Snape had intended. He’d walked right into his trap.

He collapsed on the sofa, cradling his head. He didn’t know where all that rubbish about James had come from. He didn’t know why it’d made him cry. 

Who cared if Sirius had feelings for James? It was normal, healthy even! James had still loved him like a brother. 

Taking another deep breath, he wondered how he could fix it.

*

That night, Remus went to bed without looking for Sirius. He knew Sirius was probably with Buckbeak. It’d only make things worse if he didn’t give him enough space to cool off.

An hour or so later, Sirius slipped into the bedroom. His skin and hair were damp from a shower. Remus didn’t move. 

Sirius sat on the bed next to him. “Hi.”

Remus rolled over. “You showered.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Are you sure you want to sleep next to me?”

Sirius hesitated. “I want to speak to you.”

“Oh.” He pushed himself up. He wanted to be upright for the argument. 

Sighing, Sirius said, “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions. If you say you haven’t shagged Snivellus in years, then I believe you.”

Remus felt a rushing relief. He cleared his throat, afraid he’d tear up again. “I’m trying, Padfoot.”

“I know.” Sirius twisted the bedding in his hands. “I’m . . . messed up. I know you don’t like to hear me say that, but it’s the truth. I can’t . . . sometimes it’s hard to know what’s real.”

“Because you’re in this house.”

“Yeah. This place holds so many terrible memories for me, and it’s . . . it’s hard for me to talk about it.”

Remus wanted to say, _It’s okay; you don’t have to_ , but he remained silent.

“My mother was . . . eccentric, cruel. She didn’t tolerate weakness. From a very early age, I learned to keep my emotions hidden from her, but these things never stay in the family, do they? She taught me to hide from everyone.”

“But not James.”

Sirius took a deep breath. “It was one of the reasons why I was so drawn to him. He was so open, so spoiled. No one had ever said a bad word to him; no one had ever disappointed him.”

“I knew disappointment. I was taught to hide, too.”

“I know. That’s one of the reasons why I fell in love with you. You were so strong, so brave. The world had failed you, but you didn’t let it kill your kindness, you humanity.”

“For the longest time, I wondered why you chose me.”

“I didn’t know I had to explain. I thought it was obvious.”

Remus laughed softly. “Maybe I’ve always been touched in the head.”

“What do you mean?”

He hesitated. He didn’t know what he would say until he spoke. “I guess . . . I hate myself too much to believe anyone could ever value me.” He gulped. “It’s hard to wake up every morning knowing you are a monster.”

“You aren’t! You are the best person I’ve ever known.”

“James is the best person you’ve ever known.”

“He comes close, but he never had to struggle like you.”

“He never got the chance.”

Sirius grabbed his hand; he smoothed his thumb over his knuckles. “I never loved James like I love you. You might not want to believe it, but it’s true.”

“I believe it. I was just being a prat earlier.”

“It’s okay to be jealous of him, you know. I’m jealous of others.”

Remus frowned. “You shouldn’t be. No one comes close to you.”

“Yes, but I never shagged James.”

There was a heavy silence. Remus closed his eyes, ashamed. 

“I understand why you did it,” Sirius said. “Truly, I do. I understand why you shagged blokes when I was locked up in Azkaban. I just can’t believe you chose _Snape_ of all people.”

“Does it help if I say there were others? He wasn’t the only one.”

“Not really.”

“Makes sense.” Remus smiled faintly. “I’m sorry that I hurt you, but I can’t apologize for shagging him. You weren’t there. I had no idea you’d come back into my life twelve years later.”

“I know. I still hate it.”

“Please,” he said, pulling Sirius on top of him. “I want you.”

Sirius kissed his cheek, his neck. “I want something different.”

He turned cold. “What do you mean?”

“I want to . . . fuck you. Is that okay?”

His head spun with relief. “Yes. Of course. Anything.”

Sirius laughed hotly. “Anything?”

“Anything,” Remus repeated with emotion. 

“Take off your clothes.”

Shivering, Remus removed his pyjamas. He paused at his pants.

“Yes, everything.”

He took off his pants and laid back on the bed. He hoped Sirius would do the same. 

Sirius, looming over him, slowly unbuckled his trousers, then slipped off his shirt. When he revealed his cock, Remus couldn’t look away. His mouth watered.

“Please,” Remus whispered.

“Yes.” Sirius crawled on the bed between his legs. “Spread.”

Remus spread his legs and reached for Sirius, who allowed himself to be pulled flushed against his chest. Remus nuzzled his neck. “Where is this coming from?”

Sirius laughed again. “I’m feeling territorial. I’ve also wanted to do this for a while.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I dunno. You seemed preoccupied.”

“Oh, Padfoot.” He kissed Sirius’ forehead, his nose. He whispered in his ear: “Make love to me.” 

Sirius groaned and clutched at him. For some reason, saying these things were a lot easier in bed. He wanted Sirius to know how much he cared for him.

Sirius reached down between his legs and gasped when his fingers brushed over Remus’ hole. “I don’t want to do it wrong.”

“You won’t.” Remus muttered a few cleaning and protection spells, then Conjured some lube. He slicked up Sirius’ fingers and his hole. “Start with one and go slowly.”

Trembling, Sirius pressed a finger into him, his teeth biting into his lower lip. When Remus’ flesh gave way, he stuttered a moan. Remus watched his face.

“Good?” Sirius asked.

“Fuck me with your fingers. Then I’ll let you know.”

“Okay.” Sirius laughed hotly. He moved his finger in and out, his eyes fluttering, his mouth open. Remus could barely feel it, but it was so fucking sexy to see Sirius react like this.

He whispered in Sirius’ ear: “My arse is so fucking tight for you. I need you to ruin it.”

“Fuck.” Sirius groaned. “I don’t remember you being this filthy.”

Remus grabbed his wrist. “I’m not a child anymore. Put more fingers in me.”

Sirius squeezed in a second finger. Remus fell back on the pillows, his back arching a little.

“I’ve been wanking to prepare for this moment.” Sirius watched his slick fingers move in and out. 

“I think of your mouth every time I wank.”

“That’s good to know.” Sirius curled his fingers up, searching. Remus arched more, trying to help him. 

“Oh.” Remus jerked. “Right there.”

“Yeah? Merlin, your arse feels good.” Sirius rubbed the same spot, his eyes moving from Remus’ face to his cock. “I’m making you so hard.”

Remus twisted, wanting more. “I’m dripping for you.”

“Do you want my cock, love?”

“Yes!” Remus thought about how he’d wanked Sirius in that dusty room. It was deeply arousing that the tables had turned.

Sirius added a third finger, then sped up his thrusting. “I want to make sure you’re ready for me.”

Remus gritted his teeth. Three fingers hurt, but he was proud of himself for not using a stretching spell. He wanted to take everything Sirius could give him. 

“Still okay?”

“God.” He twisted again, his hands buried in the sheets. There was sweat on his forehead and chest. It was bloody _sweltering_ in their room. 

“I need to be inside you.” He removed his fingers.

“Do it. Fucking do it.”

“Okay, okay.” Sirius slicked his cock and positioned himself; then he was pushing into Remus, trembling, his hair hanging in his face. 

Remus clung to his shoulders and did his best to relax. Fuck, it hurt. It hurt so fucking much.

“Still okay?” Sirius whispered, nearly stuttering.

“Yeah. Just - ugh.” Damn it, he could do this. He wanted to let Sirius have this.

Sirius pulled out a little, then pushed back in. He moaned loudly, liquidly. “Fuck - I’m going to come. I’m - fuck.”

“Just take it slowly. You can do it.”

“Fuck.”

Remus kissed him sloppily, breathing his exhale. “You can do it.”

“You feel too good.”

Remus wrapped his legs around his waist, which made Sirius slip deeper inside him. He whispered in Sirius’ ear: “Fuck my tight arse. I want you to. I want you so fucking much.”

Trembling more, Sirius rocked into him, grunting from the effort. He breathed against Remus’ neck. “I love you, I love you.”

“Christ,” Remus said, trying to hide his face. He was crying. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t stop the tears. “I love you, too.”

“Do you like this?”

“Of course.” Remus arched his back.

“I want to be enough.”

“You are, love.” Remus snaked his hand between them to stroke his cock. “Fuck me harder. I want to come for you.”

Sirius sped up his thrusts, but only a little. Remus squeezed around him as the pleasure mounted, and Sirius cried out. 

“Fuck, fuck -” Sirius came erratically, loudly. 

All Remus could do was hold on. Sirius finished hard, which made Remus wince. He pulled out, shaking, and tried to take Remus into his mouth. 

“No, I want -” Remus cupped his chin, holding him in place right above his cock. “I want to come on you.”

“Do it,” Sirius said gravelly. 

Remus stroked himself quickly, his toes curling. He came almost silently, intense pleasure rushing through him. It took everything in him to keep his eyes open: he wanted to see his come paint Sirius’ face.

When he came down, he kissed and licked Sirius clean, which made Sirius laugh and moan. He licked into his mouth, tasting his tongue. “I love you.”

“Merlin, I love you, too.” Sirius laughed again. “You got some in my hair.”

“Good.” Remus smiled.

*

In the following months, Remus and Sirius were closer than they’d ever been. Remus felt their walls give way; it became easier to touch Sirius, to whisper to him how much he needed him.

Sirius couldn’t get enough of him. He pulled Remus into cupboards and dusty rooms, pining him to the wall and kissing him desperately. All Remus could do was moan and clutch him. 

Sirius spent less time with Buckbeak; he gained weight and crawled into bed at a reasonable hour. He read more; he smiled at Molly and Dung; he was kinder to Kreacher. 

At night, when they were alone under the duvet, Remus pulled him closer and pressed his mouth to his neck. He loved feeling Sirius’ heartbeat. _You’re here, you’re here_ , he thought. 

One time he accidently said it: “God, you’re here.”

“I am,” Sirius breathed.

*

When May arrived, the Order was tense. Everyone could feel that something was about to happen. They also knew that something would involve Harry, but they never guessed it’d involve Sirius, too.

When Snape notified them that Harry had run off to the Ministry, Sirius was inconsolable. 

“I refuse to stay here! He could _die_!”

“But Dumbledore told you to remain behind!”

“Sod Dumbledore! He doesn’t know what’s best for this situation!”

Remus looked at Tonks and Kingsley, desperate for help. They shrugged.

“The Death Eaters already know about Sirius. We need all the help we can get,” Kingsley said.

“Okay,” Remus said, breathing deeply. Sirius tried to squeeze his shoulder, but he shrugged off the touch.

“I’m going to be _fine_ ,” Sirius said. “You’ve been a good teacher. I can defend myself.”

“Okay.”

“Do we know exactly where they are?” Tonks said.

Kingsley shook his head. “No; we’ll Apparate to the Ministry and sprint to the Department of Mysteries.”

“Christ,” Remus said, taking another deep breath. Sirius rocked on his heels, giddy about the upcoming confrontation. It made Remus sick to his stomach.

“Moody?” Tonks said.

“He’s meeting us there,” Kingsley said, then glanced at the rest of them. “Ready?”

They nodded in answer.

“Good luck, mates,” Kingsley said, then Apparated. They followed his lead.

The Ministry was tomb quiet when they arrived. They ran to the lifts, then held their breaths as they dropped down to the Department of Mysteries. When the lift opened, they found Moody standing at the department entrance.

“Good evening,” he said gruffly. “I hope you’re ready for a little excitement.”

“Oh, we are,” Sirius said.

“What’s he doing here?”

“We need him,” Kingsley said. 

“Stupid,” Moody muttered. 

They burst through doors and charged down empty corridors. In the bowels of the department, they heard raised voices and cries - _children’s_ cries.

They charged through one last door and discovered Harry and his mates surrounded by Death Eaters. 

“ _Stupefy_!” Tonks yelled, aiming at Lucius Malfoy.

“Harry’s got the prophecy!” Remus said, and shot a stunner at the closest Death Eater. 

The ensuing battle was a blur. Remus’ heart pounded too hard for him to really take in what was going on around him. He dueled every Death Eater who came after him; distantly, he saw Bellatrix Lestrange go after Tonks, but he was in no position to help her. 

_Where’s Harry?_ Sweat stung his eyes. _Where’s Sirius?_

Sirius was yelling at Harry to take the prophecy and run. Remus tried to turn to look at Harry, but a Death Eater’s killing curse missed his head by mere inches. He stumbled back, his limbs on fire. He felt nothing; there was so much adrenaline rushing through him. 

Dumbledore appeared above them, halting most of the fighting. Remus almost let down his guard, but Sirius and Bellatrix were still fighting. 

Bellatrix’s curse hit Sirius in the chest and he fell back into a veil. Remus stumbled forward, blood roaring in his ears. No, it couldn’t be -

Harry was screaming and rushing toward the veil. “Sirius! Sirius!”

Remus grabbed him, afraid he’d fall into the afterlife, too. 

“There’s nothing you can do, Harry . . . nothing . . . he’s gone.” He clutched at Harry. He barely heard himself speak.

Sirius was dead.


	4. Part Four

* * *

After the fight in the Ministry, the remaining Order members limped back to Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore had returned to Hogwarts with Harry, but they all wished he’d been there to reassure them.

They were seated at the old kitchen table. Laughter trickled down through the floorboards. No one knew if it was the portrait or Kreacher. 

“Are you sure it’s still safe with Sirius -” Kingsley couldn’t finish his sentence.

Remus stared down at his ugly hands. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the safety of the house. 

“I don’t know,” Tonks said, glancing worriedly at Remus. “I doubt Dumbledore would’ve told us to come back here if he didn’t think it was safe.”

Moody was mopping his face with some sort of healing potion. The Death Eaters had put him through a proper beating. There was still some grit on his magical blue eye. “Dumbledore’s now the Secret-Keeper. The charm is safe as long as he lives.”

They all shuddered. Nobody could imagine a world without Dumbledore. 

“Remus -” Tonks began.

He held up his hand. “Please. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You’ve been through a great shock, mate. We all have. It’s okay if you want to go up to bed,” Kingsley said.

He didn’t know if he wanted to be alone. He knew he’d drink if he was alone. It’d been over a decade since his last drink, but his mouth watered for one. He wanted to fall into oblivion. It hurt too much to feel.

“I guess I’ll go up to bed.”

“Floo me if you need anything,” Kingsley said.

Tonks smiled sadly. “Me too.”

“Thanks,” he said, and left the kitchen. He went up to the guest room and stopped in the doorway to stare at the unmade bed. Sirius had been alive just a few hours ago. He’d slept here last night. Now, not even his body remained.

There was movement to his right. He whirled around, wand drawn. “Show yourself!”

Snape stepped into the light. “I heard.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I needed to speak to you without the others around.”

“How about sending a sodding owl? You are trespassing!” This was _their_ space; Snape had no business being in this room.

“Please - let me explain.” 

Remus came at him. He buried his hands in Snape’s robes, tugging. “You murdered him. You wanted him to die!”

“No, I did everything I could to alert the Order. He was determined to put himself in danger.”

“He wouldn’t have been so unstable if you hadn’t taunted him!”

“Azkaban did that to him. I had nothing to do with his imprisonment.” 

“I hate you!” Remus’ knees gave out and he sagged forward; Snape held him up. 

“You’ve experienced great trauma. Just breathe. I’m here for you.” Snape tried to hug him, to brush his fringe from his eyes. 

“No! Let me go!” Remus shoved him away. Snape stumbled back, his hand going to his wand.

Remus laughed. “Are you going to attack me? I thought you just wanted to _help_.”

“I won’t let you assault me.” Snape straightened his back. “We had our differences, but I didn’t want him to die.”

“You are such a slimy, disgusting liar.”

Snape didn’t answer immediately. His gaze drifted to the bed. “You’re in pain. You don’t need to be alone.”

He laughed again, this time more cruelly. “You are unbelievable. You began strategizing the moment you heard of his death. Sirius is gone and all you can think about is shagging me.”

“We don’t need to have sex. Please, let me help you.”

“Oh, sure,” he said harshly. “You’ll help me until I say no, until I refuse to fuck you. You’ll play the good guy only to get what you want.”

“No!” Snape came toward him, arms outstretched. In that moment, he was just another Death Eater. He had the Mark on his arm like the rest of them.

“ _Stupefy_!” Remus missed Snape’s face by an inch.

Snape snarled and shot a jinx at him. Remus dived to the side.

“I can’t believe you tried to stun me! I’m only trying to help!”

“Sod off! _Flipendo_!” 

Snape fell to the ground, cursing. “ _Levicorpus_!”

Remus dived out of the way again, but just barely. Snape’s jinx shattered a picture frame on the wall.

There were hurried footsteps on the stairs. Kingsley and Tonks burst into the room, wands drawn. 

“What’s happening?” Kingsley demanded.

“Nothing.” Snape got to his feet. He tried to leave, but they blocked the door.

“Are you okay, Remus?” Tonks said.

“I’m just grand,” he said, massaging his back. 

“What happened? Why were you dueling?” Kingsley said.

Snape glanced at Remus. “Just old rivalries flaring up.”

“We can’t be fighting _each other_. That’s exactly what Voldemort wants,” Tonks said angrily.

“Let me pass.”

They hesitated.

“It’s fine. Let him go,” Remus said.

They stepped aside and Snape swept from the room.

“Do you want us to stay?” Tonks said.

Remus shook his head. “No. I’m okay. I just want to have a sleep.”

They didn’t look convinced; still hesitating, they glanced at him with concern as they left the room. Remus shut the door with his wand and staggered to the bed. He buried his face in the sheets, in Sirius’ pillow. He breathed him in. 

Christ. Sirius was dead. He was _dead_. Remus cried. He barely felt his tears. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think.

He rolled over on his back and stared at the dark ceiling. He wished he were dead. Then he’d be with Sirius and James. There would be no pain, no anguish. There would be no possibility of losing another person. 

There would be no more werewolf transformations. 

He saw himself doing it. Slitting his wrists, Conjuring some rope. No one could AK themselves, but maybe he could find a way to trick his magic. He could buy a toxic potion. He knew where to go in Knockturn Alley.

He Summoned his wand, heart pounding. He would do it, he would. He just needed the courage. He thought of the old liquor cabinet downstairs. Enough gulps of whiskey and anything was easy. 

He bolted upright. No. He couldn’t kill himself during a war. It was too selfish. He had to think of Harry. He wanted to make Dumbledore proud. No, he’d throw himself into defeating Voldemort once and for all. If he was lucky, he’d die a heroic death.

The liquor cabinet. He deserved a treat for not offing himself. He jumped from bed and sneaked downstairs. In the cabinet, he found three bottles of whiskey.

“Hello, old friends,” he said, and grabbed the bottles.

Again, he heard muffled laughter. It was Kreacher, somewhere in the attic, celebrating. Remus wondered if he could kill him without causing trouble.

He took the bottles up to the bedroom. He sat on the floor, his back against the old wall. He uncorked the first bottle and smelled the liquor. Bless magic. The whiskey was probably hundreds of years old, but it still smelled amazing. 

He took a small sip and nearly choked. Christ, it was potent stuff. He sipped again, letting it burn his throat. He hadn’t eaten since the morning, and he trembled from the night’s trauma. The alcohol washed over him like a comforting darkness.

*

In the morning, he woke up on the floor. He rolled over, groaning. He’d managed to drink about a third of the bottle before blacking out. His stomach twisted. He was going to sick up.

He stumbled to the toilet just in time. When he was done, he took a shower and cleaned his teeth. He went down to the kitchen and found Molly cooking.

“Hello, dear,” she said, then startled when she saw him. 

“Don’t mind me.” He sat down at the table and tried to hide his face.

“Can you eat?”

“I don’t know.”

She touched the back of his neck. “You need potions.”

“No, don’t bother. I’m fine.”

“Hush. Sit back in the chair.” She wet a flannel and draped it over his forehead. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes.” He closed his eyes.

“Good. Don’t move.” She disappeared upstairs, then came back a few minutes later. “Arthur’s on his way. He’s bringing over a hangover potion.”

“Bless you.” He dozed.

“Remus?”

“Mm?”

“Wake up.” It was Arthur, shaking him a little. “You need to drink this.”

He opened his eyes. The light stung. He picked up the potion and drowned it in one gulp. Oh, fuck. It was exactly what he needed.

“Feeling better?” Molly put a big bowl of soup in front of him. “Eat. I’ll bring you some bread.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. He gobbled up the soup, the steam nice on his face. The bread was buttery, flaky. He almost moaned. 

Arthur sat across from him with a cup of tea. “I’m sorry about your loss. We will miss him.”

“Thank you,” Remus said quietly.

Molly dabbed at her face, sniffling. “We had our disagreements, but Sirius was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die so young.”

“No, he didn’t,” Arthur said.

Remus couldn’t speak. He finished his meal with his eyes focused on the table. He was afraid he’d cry. 

“Do you need our help?” Arthur said. “We’ll do anything we can.”

Molly nodded. “We can plan the service. You wouldn’t have to do a thing.”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’d be pointless. Harry wouldn’t be able to attend.”

“But what about something small for just the Order?”

“No,” he said more firmly.

“All right,” Arthur said. “We will do whatever you want.”

“Want more soup, dear?”

“No, thank you.” Remus rose from the table. He was exhausted. He wanted to see Dumbledore. “I think I will go back up to bed. Will you wake me if Dumbledore pops in?”

“Of course,”Arthur said.

He didn’t look at them. He couldn’t stomach their pity.

*

Dumbledore didn’t drop in. Remus felt stupid to think he’d check in on him. Of course, he’d want to be close to Harry for the final week of term.

The Order held a small meeting, but Remus didn’t attend. He wasn’t strong enough. He’d probably cry in the middle of it. 

Tonks, Kingsley, and Moody visited him. He did his best to smile at their jokes and reassure them that he was doing better. Tonks hovered, not believing him.

“Let me just sit with you. We can listen to the wireless.”

“Okay,” he said, giving up.

They lounged in the library, listening to a Quidditch game. Tonks read a book and Remus lay on the sofa, staring up without seeing anything. 

An hour passed, then a second one. Remus forgot he wasn’t alone; he cried without thinking about it. 

Tonks kneeled beside him. She touched his shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He jerked his head and tried to cover his face. “I’m just being stupid.”

“Mourning isn’t stupid.”

“Honestly, I just want to be alone.”

She patted his arm. “Okay. I understand.” She got up and went to the door. “Let me know if I can do anything.”

“You can’t,” he said, and turned his back to her.

After she left, he silenced the wireless and slept on the sofa, waking up hours later when it was nighttime. He went back to the guest room and uncapped the bottle of whiskey.

*

A few weeks passed. He rarely left his bed. The house seemed darker, eerier. The shadows were eating him up. Molly tried coming into the room to tidy up, but he refused to open the door. She tried to use magic and he blocked her using the strongest protection spell he knew.

“Really, dear!” She yanked the doorknob.

“Sorry, Molly. I’m not ready.” He said this through the door.

“You need to eat! We’re all worried about you!”

“I can take care of myself.”

“That’s debatable!” She stomped back down the hall to the stairs.

He crawled back into bed. Around midnight, when the house was empty, he crept down to the kitchen to eat some bread and leftover chicken. He finished off the last of the whiskey and rummaged in the cabinet for more. He found what he thought was bourbon and decided he’d take a little tour of the house. He’d visit the cobwebs.

Stumbling over darkness, pausing to gulp straight from the bottle, he went to each of the rooms that he and Sirius had cleaned up. He didn’t bother with lights, but he knew that they’d done a proper job when he lingered in the doorway and heard only his ragged breathing. 

While they had battled the dark magic, they hadn’t cleaned anything, and now Remus had the biggest urge to sink to his knees and _scrub_. Put all his experience as a Muggle caretaker to use. He wanted to dust until his nose was filled, until his eyes watered, until all he tasted was a grave. 

He went to the room where Sirius had fought off all those fake dementors. He fell to the hard floor, remembering his own pride and excitement. God. _God._ Sirius had had so much potential. He’d been such a brilliant wizard. He’d survived sodding _Azkaban_. And for what? To be taken out by _curtains_?

He drank deeply from the bottle, his stomach twisting. He wanted to drown himself. He would never touch Sirius again. He would never make him come again. Pleasure now seemed like an impossible thing. 

There were tears. He clawed at his face, wanting to erase them. He shut the door with his wand, needing the extra layer of privacy. Shadows twisted and shimmered around him like a shroud, like something that covered him up for the very last time. 

His head spun. He’d drank too quickly, and now he was losing his grip. He was floating in water, swaying. He was on a lonely journey to the black horizon. 

Distantly, he heard rattling, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He lay on his back, his eyes rolling. He was going to sick up. He could feel it. He was going to choke on his own vomit.

*

“You _idiot_.” Someone was shaking him, cursing. “You stupid, stupid bastard.”

Remus opened his eyes. An awful smell filled his nose. “W-what?”

“Sit up.” 

Remus was hauled into a sitting position. There was vomit all down his front. He swayed, unable to hold himself up. He spit to get rid of the taste in his mouth. “Fuck.”

“You can’t remain here. You can’t be trusted to be alone.”

He was pulled to his feet. He clutched at the man, his head falling forward. Somehow, he knew. “Let go, Snape.”

“No.” Snape dragged him outside, then turned and Apparated with Remus pressed to him.

When they arrived at their new location, Remus doubled over and vomited some more. 

“Wonderful,” Snape muttered, and Vanished the sick. “You need a bath.”

Remus felt a lot better. He looked around. There were in Snape’s childhood home; he recognized the ugly carpet and walls. “There was no reason for you to bring me here.”

“You require observation, like a child. Being in that ancient house was only harming you.”

“Bollocks! I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself.”

Snape laughed. “You fell asleep with a boggart in the room, behind a closed door. You could have _died_.”

“Stop being so dramatic. Boggarts are practically harmless.”

“Prolonged exposure to a boggart can be deadly. I thought you knew that, _Professor_.”

“Yes, you are more clever than me. Let’s all fall to our knees and worship you.”

Snape stared. He licked his lips. “It affects me to see you like this.”

“Likely story. I’m just a trophy to you. Shagging me is the ultimate fuck you to James and Sirius.”

“Are you always this childish or is this the alcohol speaking?”

“ _Me_ childish? I’m not the one who torments his own students. News flash, Snape. You’re not sixteen anymore. _Grow up_.”

“You know nothing about my teaching! You know nothing about my sacrifices!”

Remus closed his eyes, his head still spinning. It felt so good to say these things to Snape, but he was exhausted. He didn’t want to fight anymore.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Severus.”

Snape stared some more at him. “I don’t want you to suffer.” His voice was very quiet.

 _Then kill me_ , he wanted to reply. Instead, he took a deep breath. “I need a shower.”

Snape pointed to the same bathroom they’d used all those years ago. “There’s running water now.”

“What luxury.” He entered the little room, not bothering to close the door. He turned on the moldy shower and eased his stained jumper over his head. Snape stood in the doorway.

Remus turned to him, bare-chested. He let his arms rest at his sides, all his nasty scars on full display. “Are you just going to watch me?”

Snape stared at his ravaged chest. He spoke with difficulty. “I’ll prepare a bed for you.”

“Okay.” He put his back to Snape and slipped off his trousers. Snape disappeared down the hall.

The shower felt good, even though the tiles smelled like a muddy pond. There was soap, but it was fossilized. He grabbed his wand and washed with magic. 

Once he was done, he dried off using his wand, then got to work on his soiled clothes. He’d gotten quite good at cleaning and mending charms, though the spells were hard on the old fabric.

He put on his now cleaned clothes and rubbed the steam from the small mirror. “What the hell are you doing?” he said to the old man staring back at him. He was only thirty-six. 

He followed noise. Snape was in the room Remus had once made his own. There was a soft lamp on. Snape had two pillows twirling in the air.

“I’ve cleaned it the best I could. The duvet is probably too thin.” The scent of fresh laundry hung in the air. 

“I can’t believe you brought me here again.” Remus noticed that nothing had changed about the room. There was some dusty parchment on the floor, and distantly he knew he’d been the one who dropped it. 

Done with the bed, Snape turned to him. “I wanted to show you.”

“That you haven’t cleaned in fifteen years?”

“I couldn’t bring myself to. Not this room.”

Remus advanced toward him. He wanted to toy with the enigma in front of him. “But we never shagged in here.”

Strangely, Snape backed away. His expression was unreadable. “It was never about the sex for me.”

“But the sex was quite good, if I remember correctly.”

Snape’s lips parted. “Yes.”

He pressed Snape against the wall. He reached inside his robes until he found his soft cock. He rotated his palm, feeling the flesh twitch and harden in his pants. It was so strange to touch Snape like this after all these years. The man was actually human; what happened between them hadn’t been some sort of weird dream.

“God,” Snape whispered.

“Is this what you want?” Remus rubbed harder. “Is this what all your manipulation and fake concern amounts to?”

“It’s not fake.”

“You’re pathetic. You fall in love with people of your own creation. You’re too much of a coward to let anyone see the real you.”

“I want you to see the real me.”

Remus stepped away. His head spun again. “Why _me_? Lily I can sort of understand -”

Snape kissed him. He was trembling, like it scared the shit out of him to do it. Remus pushed him away. His mouth probably tasted disgusting.

“I don’t want you!” He covered his face. Christ, he was going to cry in front of this bastard. 

Snape didn’t speak for a moment. He was breathing hard. “Sleep here tonight. The bed is ready for you.”

“You only want me here so I’ll fuck you.”

“I don’t want you to drink yourself to death! You might fall asleep on your back again, sick up . . . no one will be around to help you.”

“I’m a wizard. Magic will take care of me.”

“You aren’t a young man anymore. Magic fails us as we age.”

“I’m sobering up. Soon I’ll be able to Apparate.”

Snape laughed harshly. “You’ll Splinch yourself. You’re an idiot if you try.”

“I’d rather Splinch myself than be around you.”

“Fine. Do it.” Snape crossed his arms.

Remus paused. His heart beat quickly, which made him feel more focused and capable, but it was deceptive; he was still quite pissed. He went to the bed and crawled under the duvet. He felt trapped inside his own nightmare. He’d dreamed about this room for years, and now he was back and unable to Disapparate.

Snape paused before leaving. “Don’t we all fall in love with people of our own creation? That’s why relationships are difficult. All I’m asking is for a chance.”

“It’s too late,” Remus murmured. He’d meant to say _soon_ , but _late_ felt more right. 

“Goodnight,” Snape said, and turned off the lamp.

*

Remus awoke to the smell of breakfast. He wobbled down to the kitchen, his head throbbing horribly.

The house was cracked and hollowed out; water stains dotted the ceiling. Obviously, Snape hadn’t taken care of it over the years.

Snape was at the cooker. He motioned to a potion on the table. “Headache reliever. It’ll get rid of your hangover, too. I came up with it.”

Remus chugged the potion. Immediately, he felt better. “I didn’t know you drank.”

“With my job? It’s unavoidable.” He set a plate of food down in front of Remus. “Eat.”

“Yes, sir,” Remus said. Focusing on the eggs and sausage, he was once again surprised Snape could cook. 

Joining him at the table, Snape said, “You can stay here as long as you need.”

“I’m not going to live here again.”

“I didn’t say you could.”

Remus didn’t respond. He ate quickly, wanting to leave as soon as possible. Snape picked at his own food.

“How did you sleep?”

“It was the best rest I’ve had in ages!” 

Snape sneered. “There’s no need to be a prat.”

“Oh, but I disagree.” He finished his meal and stood. “Thanks, but I’ve got to go. Molly’s probably wondering where I am.”

Snape stood, too. He came around the table. “We can make a deal.”

Frowning, Remus said, “What deal? What are you talking about?”

“I can brew you Wolfsbane. I know its value to you.”

“What would I give you in return?” He knew the moment he said it. He laughed. “Christ. This is so fucked up.”

Color flooded Snape’s face. “I’m a reasonable man. I know I’m not your first choice. I know our history is a barrier.”

“How would we do it? Draw up a contract? One fuck per dose? No, that doesn’t seem right. It’s too much sex.”

“I know you’re terribly lonely. I can be a distraction.”

“You a distraction? Ha!”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“You must think I’m stupid. You must think I’m the most gullible man in the world.”

“I can bring him back for you.”

Remus stilled. “What?”

Snape licked his lips. “There’s a potion I created . . . it produces vivid _encounters_. It’s like a pensieve memory, but more potent.”

Gaping, he struggled to find the right words. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m trying very hard, Lupin!”

Remus came closer. He touched Snape’s chest, feeling his thundering heartbeat. “Why don’t you just ask me out like a normal person?”

“I’ve already tried that!”

“Oh, yes. Right after you threatened me. Very romantic.”

Snape seemed to liquify at the word _romantic_. He caressed Remus’ cheek, following an old scar up to his temple. “Kiss me. _Please._ ”

It was stupid, so stupid, but he did it. He brushed his lips against Snape’s, and it was weird. He kissed him deeper, letting their breath and saliva mix, knowing he must still taste a little of vomit. Snape moaned loudly, almost painfully, and threw his arms around Remus. 

It was nice. Strange, but nice. He leaned back, letting Snape control the kiss. His mind hummed. He felt himself become aroused, but it was dulled, like his body knew something wasn’t right. 

Why shouldn’t he shag Snape? Sirius was dead. There was no chance of him ever coming back. Why shouldn’t Remus fuck every man on the planet? Give in to his dirty urges. There was no need for him to be safe, to protect himself. He would never know love again. 

He saw himself do it: He’d tie Snape up, spit in his face. He’d say cruel, cruel things to him. He’d slap him, dig his nails and teeth into the delicate parts of his belly, as he taunted him about Lily. _No one has ever loved you_ , he’d growl. _But you already know that, don’t you? It’s why you want me. Maybe something as low as a werewolf will have you._

He shuddered. Christ. He drew away, but Snape followed, kissing across his forehead, down his nose. Remus focused on the gentleness and met his lips like they were fragile. 

He couldn’t give into Snape. He couldn’t. It was so fucking obvious that Snape had planned this. Maybe he hadn’t known Sirius would die at the Department of Mysteries, but he’d put so much sodding effort into spoiling their relationship. He’d wanted them to fail. He’d wanted to destabilize Sirius; he’d preyed on his mental illness. Why the fuck would Remus give him what he wanted?

“Stop.” Remus took several steps back. Snape, breathing hard, tried to follow, but Remus pointed his wand at him.

“What’s the matter?” 

“You fucking planned this.” Remus headed for the front door, not sure if he could Apparate. Had Snape learned his lesson from last time?

Snape scrambled after him. “What the hell are you talking about!”

“You wanted to defeat Sirius! You wanted him _dead_.”

Snape backed him into the door. He clutched at Remus, and for some reason, Remus allowed it. “Please. I’ll do anything.”

“Christ. Not this again.”

Snape buried his face in his shoulder. “I’m afraid.”

He’d never heard Snape sound like this. The words came from somewhere deep, painful. “I can’t help you.”

Snape dropped to his knees. “I can help you. Please, let me make you feel good.”

“Get up. Stop embarrassing yourself.” Who could have imagined this? Severus Snape on his knees, begging without a wand at his throat. He still didn’t understand why he got to be the one to see it.

“ _Please._ You can’t imagine the stress I’m under.” Snape buried his hands in his robes. “ _Help me._ ”

“I can’t!”

Tears streamed down Snape’s face. “Please. Show mercy.”

“I’m only going to hurt you! My God, man, can’t you see that?”

“You’re hurting me now! All you’ve ever done is destroy me!”

“You’ve deserved it! You’re a sodding Death Eater!”

Snape jumped to his feet. “No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are. Don’t you remember? You wanted to be one of Voldemort’s conquerors.”

“I was only a child!”

“So was James, but that has never stopped you from hating him.”

Snape fell silent, his chest beating up and down. “One day the truth will be revealed. You will remember this conversation and be _ashamed_.”

“You should be ashamed for how you treat everyone in your life.”

Snape laughed. It was genuine, a little hysterical. “Everyone should be on their knees, thanking me.”

“For what? Playing the spy? You just do it so Voldemort won’t kill you.”

Snape raised his arm as if to strike Remus. Instead, he backed away. “I can see you are determined to leave.”

“Finally.” Remus clutched his wand.

“This might be the last time we see each other.”

Remus frowned. “Why?”

“Speak to Dumbledore. He has a plan for you.”

“What plan? What are you talking about?”

“I need you to focus on what I’m saying to you. Do I have your attention?”

“Yes,” Remus said, agitated.

“If you somehow survive the war, I want you to make sure people understand that I was capable of true, unselfish love. Make sure they understand that all my sacrifices came from the right place, even if the opportunist in me makes it appear otherwise. Do you understand?”

“No.”

“Will you at least remember?”

“Yes, but -”

“Then go. I can’t explain more.”

Remus opened the door and walked into the sunlight.

*

He headed straight for Hogwarts. He knew it wasn’t very polite or realistic to demand to see Dumbledore, but he couldn’t wait. He needed to know what this plan was.

Scotland was full of rain; his boots squelched in the mud as he crossed the castle grounds. He kept his eyes down. He didn’t want to run into anyone he knew, but it also hurt him to gaze at the castle in all its glory.

Lucky for him, Dumbledore was in his office. He hesitated at the threshold, suddenly feeling stupid. Snape might’ve been lying. 

Dumbledore looked up from a stack of parchment on his desk. “Ah, Remus, what a nice surprise. Please come in. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Remus closed the door and took up a chair. “I don’t mean to bother you. I know you’re quite busy.”

“Yes, but sometimes these things can’t be avoided.” He gazed at Remus over his glasses. “How are you holding up?”

“Okay,” Remus said, hoping his expression didn’t give anything away.

“We are all mourning. I’m afraid the loss was quite hard on Harry.”

“Yes.” Remus cleared his throat, not liking the roughness of his voice.

“I have a request of you.”

“Anything,” he said, straightening.

“It’s time to reach out to the werewolf packs. I need you to live among them and gather information for the Order.”

“You want me to be a spy.”

Dumbledore gazed steadily at him. “Are you up to the task?”

“Of course.” Remus stood. “Tell me everything you need from me.”

*

Dumbledore gave Remus some maps and coordinates, though it still took him several days to find the pack. It wasn’t his old one, which he was disappointed about.

The forest was thick with furry trees and swarming bugs. The summer was strangely hot, and Remus resisted the urge to cast cooling charms on himself. Somehow, the old pack had always known when he did magic.

He wandered for a good twenty minutes, stumbling over roots and vines. Then he heard voices.

In a small meadow, the pack had set up camp. There were about fifty members, but the number of children made Remus still. He’d always thought his kind didn’t reproduce, but there were at least fifteen children, ranging from toddler to teenage, milling about the grass.

He introduced himself to a man with kind eyes and soft blond hair. The man took one look of him and seemed to understand.

“A reject,” he said, then stuck his hand out to Remus. “I’m Bobby.”

Remus tilted his face to the ground. “You are correct. I’ve been rejected.”

“They will always do that. Always. I pity wolves who think humans will protect them.” 

That night, Remus was allowed to eat with the pack. The children stared at him with interest; the adults stared at him with suspicion. He smiled shyly and let them assume.

It took a month or two, but the pack gradually grew to accept him. He learned that Bobby was the leader. He also learned that the pack had no interest in taking sides in the war. They moved camp quickly to outpace Fenrir Greyback. Remus understood why Dumbledore had chosen this pack to infiltrate. 

He gravitated toward the children. They asked him questions about the wizard war and if he’d fought in the battles. He felt the eyes of their parents and knew he shouldn’t answer truthfully.

“No, but have you heard about the Polish werewolf battles in the 1800s?”

They scrunched up their little faces. “That was so long ago.”

“Yes, but it’s still relevant.”

“What does ‘relevant’ mean?”

“It means that you should still care about my story. See, in 1848, werewolves in Poland revolted against the magical aristocracy and took command of their government.”

This caught the attention of the adults.

“Tell us more,” Bobby said.

“What’s the aristo -” the child frowned.

“Oh, I know!” said another child. “It means the kings and queens.”

Remus smiled. “Very good. Now, why do you think these werewolves were successful?”

“Because they took no prisoners!”

“No. They won because they were clever; they thought before they acted. They still listened to their instincts, but they didn’t allow themselves to be distracted by stupid disagreements.”

“They also stuck together,” added Bobby. “They listened to their elders.”

One of the teenagers raised her hand. “Are you saying we can overthrow the Ministry one day?”

“No, I’m saying you should be proud of your ancestry. You should be proud that you’re a werewolf,” Remus said.

This made some of the adults flinch; others nodded vigorously. 

“Tell us another story!”

Remus paused. “Do you know what an Animagus is? No? It’s a witch or wizard who can turn into an animal.”

“Like us!”

“Yes, but they have a choice. They can choose when they turn.”

“Lucky.”

“This is the story: Once upon a time, there was a very lonely young werewolf. You see, he’d never had friends. Then, one day, he met three other boys. They weren’t werewolves like himself, but they were nice and kind and funny. They accepted this lonely werewolf into their group.”

“What’s the werewolf’s name?”

“You pick,” Remus said.

There was some discussion. Finally, the children decided: “Furry Murf!”

Remus laughed. “Okay, so Furry Murf loved his new friends, but he was scared to tell them that he was a werewolf. What do you think he did?”

“Ditched them and joined a pack,” Bobby said. Some of the adults laughed.

“He ate them!”

“He told them the truth, _then_ he ate them!”

“What’s the point of that?”

“I dunno - it’s _funny_.”

“Okay, okay. Settle down.” Remus paused until there was quiet. “Furry Murf did tell them, but only after they discovered his secret.”

“This bloke is really stupid.”

Remus laughed. “Yes, he is.”

“How did they find out?”

“Well, you see, the three boys were quite clever. They realized his illnesses lined up with the full moons.”

“That’s not clever! That’s common sense!”

He laughed again. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“What happened to the boys and the wolf?” asked a child.

“Nothing, and everything. They lived happily together for the rest of their lives.”

Bobby coughed. “This is a fantasy, children. It’s nice to imagine humans accepting us, but they cannot be trusted. You must remember that.”

Remus wanted to push back, but he kept quiet. Later that night, when all the children were asleep, Bobby came to him. 

“Why do you tell the pups such lies? Why are you loyal to humans who have rejected you?”

He thought about Sirius. “Because I’ve loved them.”

“Did they love you?”

“Yes.”

“No, they didn’t.” Bobby shook his head sadly. “Humans can never fully love wolves. It is merely a flimsy fascination.”

“No. They loved me.”

“They loved who they thought you were. Who they imagined. They think you are just like them, but you’re not.”

“You’re correct. I’m not just like them.”

“You hate yourself. I see it in every scar on your body. You hate the wolf, and he senses this. You must love him. If not, you destroy yourself.”

“You’re asking me to do a very difficult thing. I’ve never loved myself.” 

“Because you fight the wolf. Because you’re ashamed of him.”

“Yes.”

Bobby sighed. “The humans have _brainwashed_ you.”

“Yes.” 

“For centuries, they fought to eradicate us, and this battle lives inside you. You feel it, don’t you? Their hate and fear; their desperation to see us disappear. It rots you.”

His throat tightened. “Yes.” He was half a man, half a person, because of this struggle. God, he hated himself. He hated himself so fucking much.

Bobby clapped him on the back. “You must work to reject _them_. We will help you.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

*

Every two weeks, an Order member met Remus in the closest rural pub. There were never good updates. Remus’ progression with the pack was slow, and the Order had few wins against the Death Eaters. Dumbledore’s hand was badly injured, which worried much of the Order.

“Does it look like it can be fixed?”

Tonks shook her head. “No. It’s cursed. Supposedly, Snape is trying to heal him, but there’s only so much magic can do.”

“Oh,” Remus said, allowing himself to think of Snape for the first since joining the pack. “How is everyone?” 

“Spirits are low. Dumbledore seems distracted, and Snape seems to be involved somehow.”

“That’s strange.” He didn’t trust himself to ask more questions.

As if summoned by his silent curiosity, Snape met him for the next update. The pub was darkened by age, its bar cracked and water stained. Its ale had a slight aftertaste of mildew. 

Snape’s eyes widened slightly when he saw Remus, who’d grown out his hair but had managed to shave his face with a Muggle razor before coming. His clothes were practically in tatters. Some of the wolves lived their days in the nude, but Remus couldn’t bring himself to join them. 

“You look like a barbarian,” Snape said.

Remus rubbed his patchy chin. “I shaved.”

Snape snorted. “Just barely.” He took the ale from Remus’ hands. “I can’t believe you’re still drinking.”

“Not often. Only when I meet the Order.”

“Do you control yourself?”

“Sometimes.”

“You idiot,” Snape said softly. 

“What’s the problem? Don’t you want me not in control? It’s easier to take advantage of me when I’m pissed.”

Snape flinched and looked away. His face was lined with exhaustion. “You judge me for my poor behavior, but you can be downright cruel.”

“Only to those who deserve it.”

Snape sighed.

Remus stared. “What are you and Dumbledore up to? The Order is worried.”

“They should be. The Dark Lord is close to overthrowing the Ministry.”

“What?”

“Hogwarts is at risk, too.”

“How do you know?”

Snape shrugged. “One can feel it. The professors are readying for a confrontation. Everyone knows of the Dark Lord’s obsession with the school.”

“I feel useless.”

“Most of the Order is useless at this point.”

Remus blinked, not wanting to believe it. “The pack has no interest in fighting with us. It’s been months, and I’m barely able to bring up the war around them.”

“It’s because they know you’re spy. It might take years to really earn their trust.”

“I don’t have years.”

“None of us do.”

They were silent. Strangely, their emotional confrontation back at Snape’s house seemed to have loosened something between them. They were comfortable with each other. Remus thought Snape would want to curse him, to hurt him in some way, but he seemed too tired for revenge.

“There’s something going on with you. I can see it in your body,” Remus said.

“I didn’t know you paid attention to me.”

“Of course I do.” Remus knew he shouldn’t say this, but being with the wolves had softened him. There was a lot less fight in him, and he wasn’t sure why. Confusion and loneliness had emptied him. “The pack thinks I’m brainwashed.”

Snape didn’t immediately respond. He stared at Remus, but it was hard to read his eyes in the gloom of the pub. “We’re all brainwashed.”

“Yes, but werewolves more than most. Christ, I just . . .”

“What?”

Remus gulped. He couldn’t believe he was being this honest. “I just hate myself so much.”

Snape looked down at the table. “It would be very easy for you to give up.”

“Yes.”

“But you haven’t. You continue to fight.”

“Do you think I should turn my back to humans? Live the rest of my life in a pack?”

“You could never do that.”

“No, I couldn’t, but being with the pack muddles my brain. They make me think things.”

“They question why you should hate yourself for being a werewolf, and this disturbs you.”

“Yeah.” Remus sighed. “I know I sound mental.”

“You don’t sound mental. The Dark Lord knows this tension exists among werewolves, and he manipulates it for his own gains. He whispers promises to Greyback while demanding blood purity. The werewolves who are Death Eaters accept this because self-hate comforts them. Even Greyback. He revels in pain and horror, but, ultimately, he likes being second class. He has no desire to lead, to change the world. He just wants blood.”

“This pack is afraid of Greyback. We’re always moving because they are desperate to avoid him.”

“Clever lot.”

“Their luck will run out, though, and I don’t know what I’ll do when it does.”

“Do everything you can to protect them. Sacrificing yourself will earn their respect.”

Remus cocked his head. “Do you want me to sacrifice myself?”

“Of course not. I want you to survive the war. I want you to be happy.”

“You want me in your bed.”

“That goes without saying.”

Remus shivered. He didn’t understand his reaction. He still hated Snape for what he’d done to Sirius, didn’t he? The problem was that he felt like two different people. Sirius belonged to old Remus; the pack belonged to new Remus. Christ, he’d been isolated for too long. He needed a break.

“I have a room upstairs. We should continue this conversation there.”

Remus hesitated. “Going up there has nothing to do with talking.”

“All I’m asking is for you to reject me in private.”

Remus almost laughed. “Lead the way then.”

The room was small, with a wooden bed and holey sheets. The window was cracked but its view was quite pretty. Remus expected Snape to trap him against the wall and snog him, but he kept his distance.

“How are you holding up?” Snape asked.

“Are you asking about Sirius?”

“Yes.”

Remus laughed. He sat down on the bed. “I’m numb to it. Living with the pack has been a good distraction.”

“What happened to Black was unfortunate.”

“You’ll really say anything to get me to shag you.”

Snape moved about the room. There was so much tension in his body that he looked injured. When he spoke he wasn’t facing Remus. “I hated him because you loved him.”

“And what about James?”

Snape breathed deeply. “Time is running out for me.”

“Time’s running out for all of us.”

“I have faults. I’m an ugly man.”

“Your looks have nothing to do with it.”

“I’m ugly on the inside, too. I know this. I’ve spent half my life trying to make up for my ugly mistakes.”

“Do you want a medal?”

Snape turned around, finally looking at him. “I want companionship. The loneliness is killing me.”

“Find someone else. It doesn’t have to be me.”

“I can’t help who I love.”

“You don’t even know me.”

Snape cocked his head. “Does anyone know you?”

“No, I suppose not,” Remus said, thinking of everything Bobby had said. 

Snape came closer. He pushed Remus back on the bed, then dropped to his knees on the floor. He opened his mouth to Remus’ groin, his saliva wetting the fabric.

The wet heat felt nice, but it was the view that made Remus thrust up. He pushed Snape’s hair back so he could see Snape’s mouth full of his trousers. 

“Do you want to suck me?”

Snape nodded quickly.

“Do you deserve it?”

Snape jerked his head no. 

He pulled Snape up and kissed him. There was something intoxicating about Snape on his knees, mouth full of him, admitting he didn’t deserve Remus. 

He wanted to unbalance Snape. Snape thought he knew what sex with him would be like; he thought if he said all the right things, did all the right things, that Remus would give him what he wanted. 

“Take off all your clothes.”

Snape hesitated. He stood and began to unbutton his robes. His hands shook badly. When he was starkers, Remus made a circle in the air with his finger. “Turn around. Go slowly. I want to see you.”

Blushing, Snape turned slowly. His eyes were focused on the floor, his chest heaving with nervous breath. His chest had filled out, but his legs were still quite twiggy. It aroused Remus deeply to make Snape this nervous. 

“Come here.”

Snape shuffled forward, still not looking at him.

Remus tasted the hair on his trembling stomach. He kissed his weak, pale thighs. “What do you want?”

“Anything.”

“Can I tie you up?”

Snape hesitated again. “Yes.”

“Can I whip you?”

Snape jerked. Remus saw the fear in his body. It was obvious he didn’t want it.

“Yes. Anything.”

In that moment, Remus understood that Snape hated himself, too. It was a brief look behind his walls, a winking glance. It made Remus tender, so fucking tender.

“Kiss me.”

Leaning down, Snape kissed him deeply. Remus tilted his head back, letting himself enjoy it. They kissed and kissed, and he knew Snape was trying to convey something. 

Nothing mattered. His work with the pack was doomed. Remus needed this; he _needed_ it.

Remus pulled away and mouthed down his stomach. He took Snape into his mouth, sucking lightly.

“Oh, fuck.” Snape gaped at him. He seemed unable to believe what he was seeing.

Remus closed his eyes and lost himself in sucking Snape. It could’ve been anyone’s cock. He put his whole being into pleasuring this man. He wanted to make his knees go weak; he wanted him to fucking cry as he flooded his mouth with come. 

He took him deeply, relaxing his throat. He pulled back to catch his breath, his tongue still working the shaft. He did this over and over, welcoming his dizzy head and sore jaw. Snape had his head thrown back, his fingers biting into his shoulders. 

He reached around to massage Snape’s hole. This made Snape buck into his mouth, his cock dribbling pre-come. “Prep yourself. Get yourself wet for me.”

It took a few trembling attempts, but Snape cast wandless cleaning and lube spells on himself. 

“Very good.” Remus worked a finger into his arse and took him back into his mouth, moving his head in time with his thrusting finger. Snape’s thighs shook.

“Fuck - Remus -”

He quickened his bobbing. Snape was still too tight to add a second finger, but he fucked him hard with the one. Snape cried out, his cock jerking on his tongue. Remus let his come pool in his mouth, not swallowing. 

When Snape had calmed down, Remus stood up and kissed him. All the come was still in his mouth, and when Snape realized this, he moaned and parted his lips. The kiss was messy, disgusting. Snape did his best to swallow what Remus gave him, but a lot of it just smeared their lips, dripped down their chins.

Strangely, Remus imagined Sirius watching them darkly from a chair.

“You dirty boy,” Snape whispered.

“I want your arse.”

“Are you going to tie me up?”

“No. Get on the bed.”

Snape scrambled onto the bed. He lay on his back, his thighs obscenely wide. 

“I can’t believe how submissive you are.”

“Only for you.”

Remus wasn’t sure if he believed that. He undressed and crawled between his legs. He pushed two fingers into Snape, wanting to cause him pain. Snape cursed and tried to relax. He was quite tight. 

“I want you dripping for me.”

Snape had to Summon his wand this time. He pointed the tip at himself and muttered another lube spell. There was now so much wet that Remus felt it on his knuckles.

“Relax. I want to give you three.” 

Snape exhaled loudly, his body softening against the sheets. Remus worked a third finger inside, wishing the room had more light. He wanted to see the pain on Snape’s face. 

He fucked him quickly with his fingers, not pausing to search for his prostate. Snape jerked and swore; he followed Remus’ hand needily. Remus withdrew his fingers and got into position.

He didn’t ask Snape if he was ready. He just pushed into him, going as deep as the flesh let him. Snape cried out and fisted the sheets.

He thrust over and over, loving as he felt Snape opening to him. 

“I love you,” Snape whispered.

Remus thrust harder. “I want to hurt you.”

Snape arched his back. “I’ve wanted you for so long. You’ve no idea.”

“I don’t care.” 

He kissed Snape, wanting to bite his lips, gag him with his tongue, but there was something about the way Snape surrendered to him that made him slow down. They kissed softly, gently. Remus fell into the kiss; he let it wash over him. He thrust deeply, carefully, wanting to feel every inch of the man beneath him. He was fucking Sirius. God, he was making love to Sirius. 

“Remus.”

“Shh. I got you.”

“I don’t want this to end. I’ve thought about it for too long.”

“It never has to end.” Remus kissed his warm shoulder, his sweaty neck. “I love you so fucking much.”

“You liar.”

Remus thrust a little harder, rotating his hips. “No, no. You’re the only man I ever loved.”

“Look at me.”

Remus opened his eyes. He was staring at Snape. 

“Don’t stop looking at me.”

He forced Snape’s hands above his head, his fingers biting into his wrists. Without warning, he thrust as hard as he could. 

“I’m fucking _you_ , god damnit. I’m giving you what you want.”

Snape squeezed around his cock, his glittering eyes trained on his face. “Oh? You like that? It’s what you want, too.”

“Fuck you.” Remus pushed his face to the side, holding him there. Snape bit down on his little finger. Remus wanted to hit him, to choke him. Instead, he held him in place with his free hand and drilled into him with all his strength.

Snape cried out and thrashed. He took more of Remus’ fingers into his mouth, biting and sucking them. Remus moaned, sweat dripping down his back. He did like this. He liked that someone let him do this to them. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, hoping all the ghosts understood.

Snape moaned around his fingers, once again squeezing around his cock. Remus understood: _Come for me_. 

“Fuck.”

Releasing his fingers, Snape caressed down his back. “You need it. Fill me up.” He whispered this softly.

“Yes,” Remus sobbed. He trembled, his bollocks so fucking tight. 

“Give me your pain. I can shoulder it.”

“I can’t.” Tears streamed into his mouth. Christ, he’d been through so much. He was tired, so, so tired. 

“You can. I got you.”

“Sirius,” he moaned achingly, unable to stop myself. He was coming; he was coming so hard, and he couldn’t stop. He cried and shook as he rode out his orgasm. He collapsed against Snape, and he was embarrassed, so fucking embarrassed. 

“You’re safe with me. Cry as much as you need.”

He was sure he’d said the same thing to Sirius. He buried his face in Snape’s shoulder and sobbed. There were so many emotions whirling through him. 

“I know he’s dead. I do.”

Snape caressed his neck. “It doesn’t matter. I just want to help you.”

Remus pulled away. He didn’t want Snape to touch him anymore. Wiping hard at his face, he said, “You are so full of it. You’ve tried again and again to ruin my life.”

“I wanted to punish you.”

He sat up. He was tired of being in darkness. “Cast a _Lumos_.”

Snape Summoned his wand without saying anything, then muttered the spell. His thighs shined with sweat and lube; his cock was still hard. Remus took him into his hand, feeling the weight. He directed the light at his face, wanting to see all of Snape’s reactions.

Snape dug his teeth into his lower lip, his face awash with tension, his eyes opened and focused on Remus. 

Remus scooped up some lube from his thighs, then went back to stroking him slowly, his thumb massaging his tip. 

“I want to see you come undone.”

Moaning, Snape thrust into his hand, his whole body shaking. 

“Does your arse hurt?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Good. Stick two fingers in you. Three if you can manage.”

Snape didn’t hesitate. He widened his thighs and worked two, then three, inside himself. Remus watched his fingers move in and out of his wet arse. Snape’s mouth fell open, his eyes lidded. 

“Do you finger yourself often?”

Snape gulped. “Yes.”

“Who do you think about?”

“You.”

“Who else?”

“No one.”

“You are such a liar. Who else?” He wouldn’t bring up Lily; he wouldn’t do that to her.

“No one!”

“Do you want my mouth on you while you fuck your arse? Yes? Then tell me who else.”

Snape closed his eyes. He was panting, his face flushed. He fumbled over his words. “Sometimes - I thought about you two. I couldn’t help it.”

“Sirius and me? What did you imagine?”

“You fucking him.”

Remus dragged his tongue up and down his straining cock. He took him into his mouth, sucking hard. Pre-come flooded his mouth, and he leaned up and kissed Snape so he could taste himself. Snape moaned.

“What else did you imagine?”

Snape jerked away, his fingers going deeper. He gasped into his pillow. “I imagined him watching as you fucked me.”

Remus closed his eyes. “What did he do as he watched? Did he like it?”

“He loved it.”

“Christ,” Remus said, not caring if Snape was just telling him what he wanted to hear. He sucked him back into his mouth. He relaxed his throat, his neck, and let Snape choke him. 

“Oh,” Snape said, his fingers moving quickly. 

Remus came up to breathe, gasping, drooling. “I want your come.”

“Please.” Snape twisted, riding his own fingers. “Please.”

Remus stroked him quickly, sucking just his head. 

Moaning, Snape exploded in his mouth, mumbling, his stomach clenching from the pleasure. “God, I love you.”

Remus swallowed it all down. He lapped and lapped, sucking even as Snape began to soften. 

“Come here,” Snape said sleepily. He pulled Remus up and kissed him hard, almost brutally. Snape sucked on his tongue, moaning. “I love that you taste like me.”

“You are mad.” Remus rested his arm under Snape’s neck and kissed him back, utterly in control. He put all his confusion and frustration into the kiss. He bit down on Snape’s lip, wanting him to know that he wasn’t forgiven. Snape arched into the bite as if to say: _I know, I know, but I’m scared._

They fell asleep. When Remus woke up, Snape stood over him, fully dressed.

“I have to go.”

“Of course.” Remus sat up.

Snape framed his face, his thumbs moving gently over his cheeks. “Do you remember what I told you last time? What I asked you to remember?”

“Yes.”

Snape kissed him softly. “Please.”

“I’ll remember, okay?”

Snape shook his head. He kissed Remus again and again. “Thank you.”

Remus pulled away, a little embarrassed. “Don’t.”

Snape took one last look at him, then Disapparated.

*

Afterward, Remus expected Snape to reach out to him again, but Snape made no attempt to contact him.

Remus dreamed about Sirius and Snape. Together. Sometimes they were aware of him, other times he was as invisible as air. They argued and debated; they dueled and threw punches; they kissed and kissed until they gasped and trembled. 

Many times, Remus awoke before they shagged, but in the soft light of dawn, he lay on the forest floor and imagined it. His subconscious had supplied the necessary images; all he needed to do was continue the scene. 

He supposed it was his way of working through the guilt. He didn’t know what it meant to fuck a former rival when the love of his life was dead. Surely Sirius could understand his motivations, his loneliness? At least that was what people told themselves about death. Death was supposed to make people all knowing, all forgiving. Remus hoped Sirius had better things to do in the afterlife than grapple with how he felt about Remus sticking his cock up Snape’s arse.

Being around the pack didn’t help. They rejected monogamy, and it was quite common for three or four wolves to raise a child together. Sexual jealousy was stupid. Expecting two people to be enough for each other was stupid. He was overcompensating. It wasn’t right that he’d shagged Snape, and now he was desperate to make himself feel better. 

When Christmas arrived, Remus finally left the pack to spend a few days at the Burrow. He wanted to check up on Harry. Remus was quiet for most of the visit. It was hard for him to carry on a conversation, to answer their mundane questions: _How are you feeling?_ No idea. _What’s your progression?_ Ask Dumbledore.

According to Harry, Snape was up to something with Malfoy. Remus didn’t think it was their business, but it would explain why Snape had seemed so wrecked. 

_None of it matters_ , he thought. He was desperate to get back to his pack. He wondered how they were celebrating Christmas.

*

When Death Eaters finally infiltrated Hogwarts, Remus had accomplished little with the pack. He was with Bobby when Kingsley’s Patronus urged him to Apparate to Hogwarts.

“You can’t return if you go,” Bobby said.

Remus gulped. He looked around the forest, his eyes lingering on the children. He was going to miss them, but he refused to sit back while Hogwarts was endangered. 

“I must,” he said.

Bobby sighed. “We failed you.”

“No, I failed you.” Remus Disapparated.

He arrived at the Hogwarts gates and sped toward the castle. He ran into the Order at the entrance steps. 

“I hear screaming!” Tonks said.

Kingsley raised his wand. “Let’s go!”

They raced through the doors, following the screams. They stumbled on the children, who were quite shaken. 

“Malfoy’s got darkness!” Neville said, which didn’t make any sense until they caught up with the Death Eaters, and Draco Malfoy threw powder into the air that cast the corridor in black. 

“What do we do?” Ginny said. 

“Be careful! Stick together!” Tonks insisted. 

The Death Eaters were moving toward the Astronomy Tower. They followed and did their best to stop them, but it was difficult in the receding gloom. Malfoy and a few others made it into the tower, but a band of other Death Eaters blocked the Order’s way.

“Harry must be in there!” Remus said, listening to his gut. “Hurry! We need to get to him!”

Killing Curses flew through the air. A Death Eater was hit with one of them, toppling to the ground. Gritting his teeth, Remus fought like hell, trying to break through the band. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Greyback attack Bill Weasley.

“No!” Tonks yelled.

“Don’t lose focus!” Remus said.

Kingsley and Ginny ran to Bill’s defense. _He’s dead. There’s nothing we can do_ , Remus thought, and redoubled his efforts. He stunned two Death Eaters and nearly missed a third.

Neville made it through the band but was thrown back. The entrance to the tower was cursed.

“All right, Neville?” Ginny yelled.

Neville, bleeding some from the head, nodded shakily. Remus maneuvered until he blocked the boy from harm. 

Snape arrived. Distracted, Remus nearly took a curse to the face. Snape rushed past, not glancing at him. Snape went through the cursed barrier. Remus stormed after him, but he was thrown back like poor Neville.

 _A true Death Eater_ , Remus thought. He struggled to his feet and kept fighting.

After the battle, when the Order had regrouped in the hospital wing, Remus learned the truth.

“Dumbledore’s dead,” Ginny said.

“No!” Remus fell into a chair, his face in his hands. He couldn’t think.

Tonks remained standing. “How did it happen?” 

“Snape killed him,” Harry said.

Remus went cold. He was sure his heart stopped. He stared as Harry explained how Snape had killed the one man who’d truly trusted him. 

McGonagall clutched at her chest. “I can’t believe it.”

Remus felt a sudden rush of hatred. “Snape was a highly accomplished Occlumens. We always knew that.” He hated that he’d believe anything Snape had ever said. He remembered how he’d begged and cried, how he’d supposedly showed Remus his heart. Christ, Remus was an utter fool.

Then Harry said something surprising: “Snape passed Voldemort the information that made Voldemort hunt down my mum and dad. Then Snape told Dumbledore he hadn’t realized what he was doing, he was really sorry he’d done it, sorry that they were dead.”

“And Dumbledore believed that?” Remus said. “Dumbledore believed that Snape was sorry James was dead? Snape _hated_ James . . .”

He thought of Lily. He thought about all the times Snape had hinted at his sacrifices. Snape had played the ultimate long game. He’d sacrificed so much to save Lily, and when Dumbledore failed to do it, he spent the next fifteen years plotting his revenge. It made sense in a twisted, delusional way. Destroy the whole world to avenge the love of your life. If Lily couldn’t live, then no one could. 

He stood abruptly. The others asked him where he was going, but he couldn’t explain. He headed for Snape’s rooms, determined to find answers. Surprisingly, the portrait admitted him without a password.

The rooms were a little messy; books were scattered on chairs and tables, old cups of tea teetering on large stacks of parchment and newspapers. Snape must’ve not let the elves come in to clean.

He searched for a note, some evil declaration of guilt. He stumbled into Snape’s bedroom and stopped. Laid out neatly on the duvet were three books. The candles were dim and he had to lean close to read their titles.

He gasped. They were the same Daphne du Maurier novels that Remus had read when staying in Snape’s house.

He picked up _Rebecca_. Snape had scrawled a message on the inside of the crumpled flap: _Ab Imo Pectore_. It was a fairly common phrase in Latin, but it took Remus a moment to remember its meaning: _From the bottom of my heart._ He shook his head. 

Leave it to Snape to write Latin in his mum’s paperback novels.

On his bedside table was an old photograph of the Order. Remus steeled himself before picking it up. The photograph was unmarked, though a little worn. He was relieved that Snape hadn’t scratched out James and Sirius. He turned it over and found another latin phrase: _Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim_. 

This one was trickier. It meant something about patience and pain. He muttered a translation spell and the words shifted to English: _Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you._ His heart pounded. The phrase could be taken many ways.

Slipping to the floor, he covered his face. Dumbledore was dead. What in the world would the Order do now?

*

A few months later, the Ministry fell. Moody died and Snape tried to kill Remus but injured poor George instead. The Order went underground, and Remus did his best not to imagine Snape as Headmaster of Hogwarts. He couldn’t stomach it.

There were violent skirmishes, random killings. The size of the Order dwindled. Recruiting more members was damn near impossible. Most wizards and witches didn’t have a death wish. 

Everyone worried about Harry. Remus felt useless. He knew Harry was looking for something, and he wished he could help.

More months passed. Harry, Hermione, and Ron disappeared; most outside the Order assumed they were dead. Remus didn’t think so. He couldn’t imagine Voldemort not announcing Harry Potter’s demise. 

He became Romulus for _Potterwatch_ , which was a nice distraction. The wireless programme made him feel useful. His whole life was devoted to preparing for the daily shows. Once the broadcast was done, he, Kingsley, Lee Jordan, and Fred Weasley had to quickly move to another location. It was dangerous work. It was also bittersweet: He knew Sirius would have loved to undertake something like _Potterwatch_. He wondered if Snape ever tuned in.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, he awoke to Snape’s Patronus watching over him. Sometimes, it was his own Patronus, the ugly werewolf, crouching awkwardly, observing silently. Remus didn’t know what it meant. 

The first time he saw this, his heart had leapt. Sirius’ Patronus looked so much like his own that, at first glance, it was easy to get them mixed up. _Sirius!_ he’d thought. _He’s alive! The veil didn’t truly killed him. He has sent a message from the world between life and death!_ But, no: Remus would blink and realize what he was actually staring at. How could the disappointment still be so painful?

*

When the Final Battle arrived, Remus knew it was the Order’s last stand. Harry’s, too. They would stop Voldemort or die trying. There was no other option.

He gathered a group of fighters on the dark grounds. In front of them, Hogwarts was on fire. Screams pierced the air. 

“Tonight, we end this bloodshed! Tonight, we win this war!” he yelled.

They charged into the castle, Remus in the lead.

Most of it was a blur. He fought at the entrance and in the corridors; he fought on stairs and sidestepped alcoves. He looked for Snape everywhere. He would kill the man if he got the chance.

It was near the Great Hall that he encountered Dolohov. They shot killing curses at each other. Sweat spilled into Remus’ eyes. He couldn’t see well. 

Dolohov shot another curse at him; he stumbled to avoid it, nearly dropping his wand. He knew in that second he’d lost. 

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ” Dolohov yelled.

Remus fell to the ground.

**

When Remus opened his eyes, he was standing in the Gryffindor common room. He was confused. He didn’t remember coming up here.

“Moony.”

He turned. Sirius stood before him, years younger. He looked like he was around twenty-two. 

“Padfoot?” He stepped closer. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Is this a dream?”

“No.”

“But - you look different.”

Sirius laughed. “Come here so I can kiss you.”

Remus let Sirius embrace him. Sirius kissed his nose, laughing some more. Their lips touched, and Remus felt so warm and safe. They kissed and kissed, losing themselves. _I never want this to end_ , he thought.

“Merlin, I missed you.” Sirius peppered his face with some more kisses. “Sit down with me.”

They took up a comfy sofa next to the crackling fire. Sirius held his hand, his eyes affectionate. “I need to ask you something.”

“Yes?” Remus braced himself.

“You have a choice. We both have a choice.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sirius rotated his thumb over his knuckles. “I know. It’s hard to explain.”

“Have we vanquished death?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Sirius looked thoughtful. “That’s not what the voices told me.”

“The voices?”

“Behind the veil. They gave me two choices. I could move on without you or wait for you. I chose to wait.”

Remus felt himself tear up. “Oh, Padfoot.”

“I don’t know what waits for us in this world, but I know that I want to be with you.”

“What does it mean to move on?”

“I don’t really know. I think it means to welcome true oblivion. Here, our emotions are still intact. There’s still sadness and disappointment; there’s also happiness and success. To move on, I think, is to be nothing but pure light.”

At that moment, a door opened to their dormitory, filling the common room with white, white light. It reminded Remus of clouds and sea foam; of the flash of lightning and the white cloth of a pristine pillowcase. Staring at the light, Remus was flooded with warmth.

“We can go together,” Sirius murmured. “I don’t mind either way.”

“You want to walk into the light?”

“Yes and no. Whatever I do, I want to be with you.”

“What is the other option?”

“To exist in this world. I don’t know for how long.”

“What would we do?”

“Whatever we wanted.”

Remus thought for a moment. “If we stay in this world, we can make up for all our lost time.”

Sirius smiled. “Yes.”

“I need to tell you something.”

“Go on.”

Remus licked his lips, slightly scared. “I shagged Snape after you . . . left.”

“I know.” 

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Remus clutched at him.

“It’s okay. I understand.” Sirius said this easily, and Remus looked into his peaceful gaze and knew he was telling the truth. 

“I was just so lonely - and he -”

“It’s okay to have feelings for him.” Sirius touched Remus’ cheek. “It’s okay to sometimes need something more than me. I know your love for me is real.”

Tears fell down his cheeks. He couldn’t stop them. “I’m so relieved that you understand.”

“You don’t have to be ashamed.” Sirius wiped away his tears with his thumbs. “I will always love you no matter what. That’s why we’re here right now.”

“I don’t want to walk into the light,” Remus whispered. “I want to live with you.”

“Exist, you mean. I’m not sure if it will be what we are used to.”

“I choose existence with you.”

“Good.” Sirius took his hand and they left the common room through the portrait hole.

They found themselves at Grimmauld Place, but it was cleaner, more manageable. They spent countless days rearranging the furniture, discarding all the signs of hate and gloom. They cooked elaborate meals and dined in the garden, the scent of jasmine surrounding them. 

Remus’ parents visited. He talked Daphne du Maurier with his dad and Jim Reeves with his mum. They adored Sirius. A few days or years later, Regulus visited. Regulus collapsed in Sirius’ arms, sobbing. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said. “I did everything to make it right.”

Sirius held him close. “You are a hero.”

Then, one evening, the doorbell rang. Sirius and Remus looked at each other.

“I’ll see who it is.” Remus ascended to the lounge.

When he opened the front door, he found James and Lily, grinning, holding bottles of wine. He cried out and hugged them both. 

“It’s been too long!” Remus said.

James laughed and straightened his glasses. “I’ve missed you, mate.”

He ushered them inside. “Sirius is cooking in the kitchen.”

“It smells amazing,” Lily said.

James bolted downstairs with the wine, leaving them alone.

Remus grasped her hands. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I know. It’s incredible.” 

He hesitated. He was thinking about someone. She seemed to understand.

“He’s in peace. I know that for sure.” She smiled at him, and suddenly he knew the truth. 

“Dumbledore asked him to do it.”

“Yes.”

He gulped, his throat tightening. “He loved you so much. He sacrificed his life to make things better.”

“Yes.” She looked a little sad. 

“Have you seen him?”

“Yes. He gave me a message for you.”

“For _me_?”

“Oh, Remus.” She laughed a little. “You’re blind to your own beauty and strength. Your love is something special.”

“Rubbish! I lived hard. I was a confused, sad man.”

“You were never second best.”

He frowned. “Second best to what?”

“That’s his message, and I have to agree. You could never be second best.”

Tears came easier to him now. He let them drip down his face. “I don’t think I could ever believe that.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to believe it now. Everything’s a journey.” She took his hand and drew him downstairs.

Sirius and James had set the table. Sirius kissed him deeply and helped him into a chair. 

“How about a toast before we eat?” James said.

Lily smiled. “How lovely!”

They raised their wine. 

James said: “May we look forward with happiness, and backward without regret!”

“Cheers!” they answered.

Remus drank from his goblet. Sirius smiled at him and took his hand.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes,” Remus said.

It was the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Find me on [Tumblr](https://maraudersaffair.tumblr.com/) :)


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